


Harry's Summer Vacation

by Wyrmraker



Series: Harry Potter - World Traveller [3]
Category: Black Lagoon (Anime & Manga), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gun Violence, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28362348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyrmraker/pseuds/Wyrmraker
Summary: Having survived the hell of Yamatai, Harry finds himself stuck in The Most Dangerous City in the world: Roanapur!
Series: Harry Potter - World Traveller [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689067
Comments: 69
Kudos: 168





	1. Chapter 1

It took nearly a week for the container ship to slowly make it's way from the Dragon's Triangle to Thailand. In that time, Lara and Harry quietly grieved with their team mates over the loss of Roth, as well as talked at length over what had happened on Yamatai. In addition, thanks to the slow path Harry was able to take the time to 'get to know' the magical structure of Yamatai, for once being able to properly appreciate the advantages of having access to a Center of Power.

Also, and with Salim's assistance, Harry was able to take the time to assimilate the new patterns of knowledge he'd absorbed. Tom's skills were most useful in sorting that mess, mostly because Himiko _was_ absolutely insane.

Magics for weather control dominated the pattern, and they were 'seasoned' with a wide breadth of knowledge of history, ancient political theory, and rulership. Also dotting through the matrix were rituals, methods of enchanting items, and esoteric magics that Salim had never heard of, but was eager to experiment with.

As for their time on the freighter, the survivors of Yamatai had stashed their weaponry in Harry's bag; traveling internationally with unlicensed guns and grenade launchers wasn't exactly a good idea. Alex and Harry mingled with the crew, while Reyes busied herself with helping with engine maintenance, Jonah assisted in the galley, Grim was always on the bridge (apparently the ancient Scotsman was a somewhat legendary figure among sailors). Lara and Sam mostly stuck to each other, Lara going through her journals while Sam recovered from her ordeal.

On August 6, 1994, the container ship pulled into the deep water portion of the docks of the Thai city of Roanapur. Both Grim and Jonah had warned Harry about the place. They both agreed that Alec Guinness had probably been referring to this city when he was describing Mos Eisley Spaceport as 'a wretched hive of scum and villainy'.

Within two hours, Grim (who was, as it turned out, second in command of the expedition) had managed to contact their insurance company to make arrangements, and that led them to the airport.

"Please tell me that you're joking."

"I'm afraid not, Mister Potter," the woman at the airline ticket counter calmly replied. "International airline policy is to not allow minors to travel across national borders without their legal guardians. This policy is to prevent human trafficking."

"Even if my legal guardian died in a shipwreck? Crap."

Lara put her hand on Harry's shoulder, asking the woman, "What about the British Embassy? Is there a train station or a bus that will take us to Bangkok?"

The woman sighed. "Unfortunately, due to the Muslim separatists' actions, the southern five states of Thailand have been sealed from the North. I'm afraid that it is quite inaccessible at this time, and for the forseeable future."

The seven stepped out, instantly coated in a heavy layer of sweat thanks to the August heat and humidity.

"So, what now?" Alex asked. "I mean, how do we get Harry out of Thailand?"

"I hate to have to ask," Reyes began in a low voice, "but is there such a thing as a magic embassy?"

Harry blinked at the question. It seemed perfectly obvious, and yet he hadn't even considered it.

"Aye, there is," Grim spoke up. "It's here, too, not in Bangkok. A lot of countries keep the embassies out of their capitals to keep the noise down."

"Makes sense," Sam added. "Keep other diplomats at arm's length, make it inconvenient to just pop in over piddly stuff."

"You know where it is, Grim?" Lara asked.

"This way."

Grim ended up hailing a taxi cart. Harry, whose exposure to taxis was limited to London's ubiquitous black cabs, marveled at the open-air covered taxi propelled by the front half of a motorcycle. The breeze was a godsend in the oppressive humidity, and within fifteen minutes the seven stood in front of a nondescript building in an area that seemed predominantly slavic.

Following Grim, Harry and Lara entered the building. The others had been warned to stay outside. As people without magic, someone inside might try to adjust their memories, as British magicals were wont to do almost on reflex.

"May I help you?" asked a young man of Hindi descent behind a desk.

"Hi. My name is Harry Potter; here's my passport. This is Lara Croft and Angus Grimaldi. We ended up in a shipwreck on an archaeology expedition, and the rescue ship brought us here. Since I'm a minor, muggle airlines won't let me travel internationally since my legal guardian died in the shipwreck. I was hoping to be able to arrange for a portkey or something back to Britain."

The man behind the desk sagged, saying, "Damn. You have my condolences, Mister Potter. Unfortunately, due to..." The man paused before standing up. "Eh, sod it. Come on; might as well do this in the conference room."

The three confused people followed the man to a modestly appointed conference room. All four sat as the man began to explain.

"My name is Eshan Pembrow. I am the designated secretary for this embassy. The actual ambassador is not in residence because the Minister put one of his friends in the spot. The ambassador had to flee Thailand because he told someone at a rather important society party that, and I quote, 'The Thai king is just some muggle. He needs to keep his nose out of the affairs of his betters.' Insulting the Thai king is a prisonable offense in Thailand, no matter who says it, magical or not."

"That's... that's just dumb," Harry commented.

Eshan tiredly nodded. "Technically, Roland Timbul is still the ambassador. But he has a warrant out for his arrest, and his diplomatic immunity has been revoked for the crime. In all honesty, _I_ am pretty much the diplomat here, and everyone knows it."

"I see how it's going," Grim said, sipping at a glass of water. "So, less politics means it'll be easier for the lad to get a portkey."

"Actually, no," Eshan sighed out. "Thanks to Timbul's actions, all incorporated magical travel for British citizens has been revoked. No portkeys or floo travel. The best you can do magically is get on a broom and fly over a border, or apparate there. And apparation is not recommended; there are a lot of old magical sites hidden in the jungles of Southeast Asia, and they can really mess up the travel."

"So Harry basically has to find a non-magical way out of Thailand?" Lara asked.

"Essentially. Actually, it would be better for him because he came in as a shipwreck rescue. Since his passport was marked by the local port authority, he's already in the local computer system. The higher-ups in the Ministry might not have a high opinion of muggles, but I know that their communications and record keeping are getting better every year. Odds are good that Mister Potter will be in the international database by sundown. If he drops off their radar only to reappear in, say, London out of the blue, people in Interpol are going to take notice."

"Right. Don't want to be stupid about that," Harry murmured. "So what would you recommend, sir?"

"Honestly? Get yourself a boat to Hong Kong. Since it's still a British territory for now, it'll be a lot simpler than going to Malaysia or Singapore. From there you can easily get a portkey, possibly an international floo. Or if you want to take the longer, less expensive way, take the ferry to Japan and get on one of the bi-weekly portkeys there."

"Makes sense," Lara said. "What about India?"

"Were you told about the Muslim separatist issue?" All three nodded. "Well, since the increased violence thanks to Malaysia, just getting to India is problematic. And that's on top of the British National Party lobbying to increase their own foothold in the Lok Sabha. Sorry, basically their House of Commons. But with the increased stress, well, basically being white, British, and without a security force in India is a fast way to catch getting dead."

"Damn. What a ruddy mess," Grim snarked out. "So, slow boat to China is the best, eh?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Eshan replied. "Personally, I'd go with one of the local smugglers with a good reputation. Roanapur is full of small firms that make a living getting stuff from place to place."

"Is there a way to contact Gringotts?" Harry asked. "I mean, if I'm going to be paying for, well, _anything_ , I'll need money."

"That's an excellent point," Eshan admitted. "Thankfully, our international floo can still make calls. The 'independent magical currency' concept never took root here, so all the money in Roanapur will be in Thai baht or US dollars. Also, the Statute of Secrecy is a little, er... _thinner_ here. We don't have a lot of magicals in Roanapur, so enforcement isn't really an issue. And it usually just gets written off as 'Weird Murder', if the local police bother investigating at all. If you're subtle about it, using magic here really isn't an issue."

"Wait, I don't understand," Lara said, confusion writ across her face.

"It's like this, lass," Grim said, cutting off Eshan. "Roanapur is at the tip of the Golden Triangle. Pretty much all drugs from Southeast Asia get shipped through this city. Organized crime runs _everything_ , and small gangs wander the streets like feral cats. In Roanapur, it's only really illegal if the local police are paid to enforce it."

"That's completely mad," Lara breathed out.

"He isn't wrong," Eshan began, "but he isn't entirely correct, either. There are three major factions here, with small factions coming and going every day. For the most part, the big three factions want peace and quiet; better for business, you see. But there is a lot of violence here. Shootings, strangulations, and so on. Hell, the local body disposal expert is practically on the list of City Services."

"So, it's best if I can get out quickly," Harry summed up.

"Indeed," Eshan said while standing up. "I'll go ahead and contact Gringotts for you. Is it just you three?"

"A total of seven, actually," Grim replied with a smirk. "All under confidentiality contracts through Gringotts. Potter funded our expedition, and it isn't done until we're back in Britain."

"That... makes a lot of things easier," Eshan admitted. "I'm the only person here, so go ahead and bring the rest in to the conference room. You'll likely be a bit; no point in them suffering under the Thai sun at noon."

Lara left to collect the others as Eshan left the room. Harry turned to Grim, asking, "Give it to me straight, Grim. How much issue will me being here be?"

Grim sort of shrugged at the question. "Probably not a lot. The syndicates keep things mostly peaceful. It's not really that much more dangerous than the East End of London."

Harry nodded at that. "Just got to keep my head down, not stir up trouble, that sort of thing."

"And don't act like an idiot tourist," Grim added. "You may be fourteen, but acting like a gawking tourist is a fast way to get mugged. Just kind of blend in. And if there's time, pay someone to teach you how to apparate. If your life is on the line, teleporting away may be your best bet."

"Got it. Thanks, Grim," Harry said as the whole group came into the conference room.

"So, the bad news," Harry began, "is that I may be here for a little bit. Politics has me restricted in my options. I plan to hire someone to sail me to Hong Kong, and Eshan is being really helpful by contacting my bank for me."

"At least there's something positive there," Alex admitted.

"As soon as I can talk with my bank, you all can grab a flight back to Britain," Harry said. "With everyone there, Grim can get the legal stuff moving about the expedition, and I can work my end through my investment manager. I figure get stuff set up from here, and when I get to Hong Kong I can finish whatever paperwork they'll have for me. Any questions?"

"How long will it take you to get out of Roanapur, Harry?" Sam asked.

"I'm not sure. Probably not more than a week. I can just get a hotel room or something. Maybe Eshan will be willing to let me stay here. But I won't know until I talk with someone about a boat."

"You can't be talking about staying here alone," Reyes commented. "You're fourteen! It's not safe!"

"I know," Harry began, "and that's why I'm still in the planning stages here. And like I said, I can just request asylum here if I need to."

"Don't worry," Lara interjected, "I won't leave until I _know_ Harry is taken care of."

Eshan entered the room, followed by a rough looking man dressed in military fatigues. Tall, with hair the color of sand, the man introduced himself with a neutral American accent. "Jeremiah Darkraven, Gringotts Special Services out of Hong Kong. You're Potter?" Harry nodded. "Fantastic.

"Here's the deal, Mister Potter," Darkraven began in a no-nonsense tone. "We can easily transfer a sum of money from your accounts with the Royal Bank of Scotland to the local branch of the The Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, or HSBC. In addition, we can make arrangements for temporary identification; that'll be less conspicuous than waving around a passport. My department can also make the necessary arrangements for your travel to Hong Kong, as well as local accommodations."

"That sounds great," Harry admitted. "Anything else?"

"A couple of items. Later, once initial matters are settled, someone from Gringotts will be meeting with you concerning your investments. As it's very late at night in London right now, we've already left messages concerning your current status. Thanks to Mister Pembrow, we have the basics of your situation and can read in a few more thanks to your paperwork.

"But for now, I personally recommend hiring a crew called the Lagoon Company. They're a dedicated courier service with a solid reputation for reliability. Once we're done here, I can take you there and conduct the negotiations."

"Damn, Harry," Reyes said with a tinge of admiration in her voice. "It's a hell of a bank that can pull all this off for someone."

"Yeah, Gringotts is the best," Harry agreed. "So what order are we working with, Mister Darkraven?"

"Your local identification papers are being made as we speak; they'll be here in a few minutes. Then Lagoon Company and the bank after."

"Great. That works out well. Mister Pembrow, I really appreciate all that you've done for me."

Eshan smiled at that. "It's no trouble at all, Mister Potter. Honestly, this just gives me something to justify my job with. And my job gets pretty boring."

An hour later (and not a small amount of paperwork), Lara and Harry were in a car being driven by Darkraven while the rest of the crew went back to the airport. He smoothly pulled the sedan into traffic, saying, "I gotta say, Potter, you really know how to stir some shit up."

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, confused.

"Part of the investment package," Darkraven admitted, "included a long range tracking charm on the Endurance. When it went offline, my department began scrambling to try and find you. Then we get a call a few days later that you've been picked up from a shipwreck. We never expected you to end up in Roanapur, but at least it's a known quantity with us."

"Ah. Sorry about that. We weren't expecting the storms to be as bad as they were. At least we found Yamatai?"

"Wait, seriously?" Darkraven asked. "People have been looking for that place for _forever_! How'd you do it?"

Lara shrugged, saying, "We just went where everyone was told not to go."

Darkraven laughed long and hard at that. "Goddamn. I mean, really. See, I've been security on a few of those expeditions that turned up nothing. Most we ever found was a group of Japanese soldiers who didn't know that World War Two was over."

"Huh," Harry said, looking out the window. "You probably would've been better prepared than we were, then. Because we were screwed from landfall. Cannibal sun cultists, undead samurai, and so on."

"Oof. Sounds rough, man," Darkraven admitted. "But hey, you made it out, right? You're alive and can still count to twenty, yeah?" Harry and Lara both nodded at that. "So that just means that you can focus on getting better. More preparations, better skill sets, and mental prep now that you know what kind of things are out there. I mean, yeah, there's seeing a therapist, but that goes with the territory," he commented, making a right turn. "But now that you've seen stuff, you can get ready for more of it in the future."

Harry just sighed at that. "It just seems like nothings ever easy, you know?"

Darkraven laughed at that. "If it was easy, it wouldn't be worthwhile! Anyways, we're here," he said, pulling up to a building.


	2. To Business!

The trio walked up the stairs in the building, the air conditioning barely cutting the humidity inside. Darkraven turned off on the third floor, heading for an unmarked door. Opening it, he led Harry and Lara inside.

Harry saw a large black man seated at a couch, as well as a Japanese man in a button-down shirt and slacks. The two were poring over some paperwork.

"Can I help you?" the black man asked curiously, gazing at the trio through his sunglasses.

"I'm Jeremiah Darkraven. This is Harry Potter and Lara Croft. My group wants to hire yours to get Mister Potter to Hong Kong."

"I see," the black man mused aloud as he stood. Harry internally goggled at the man's size. Six foot, four inches, the man was massive and muscular, and even more intimidating by the flak jacket that he wore. "Given that I don't know who you are, I'm not sure why the Lagoon Company would want to take this job."

"Ah, my apologies," Darkraven said. "My group usually goes through Benjamin Harcourt for courier work with you."

The Japanese man frowned, and then began flipping through the paperwork on the coffee table. "I think I have it, Dutch. The jobs that went through Benny," he said, handing the black man a few pages.

The black man, Dutch, flipped through the sheets, saying, "Gringotts, right?" Darkraven nodded. "Got it. Yeah, you guys always pay promptly, and the work usually isn't dangerous. So, assuming we _can_ get Mister Potter here to Hong Kong, what's the catch? Why can't he just take a plane or something?"

"If I may?" Harry asked. "Dutch, right?" The black man nodded. "My legal guardian died last week in a shipwreck, so I can't travel internationally as a minor. I can't get to the British Embassy because of the separatist problem, and getting to India is a bad time for anyone white and British."

"He's not wrong, Dutch," the Japanese man said. 

"I see," Dutch commented, rubbing his chin. "Unfortunately, it'll be a couple of weeks before we can do _anything_ near Hong Kong."

"Why is that?" Lara asked.

"There are military naval exercises happening right now," Dutch replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "US, British, and Japanese Navies are all holding war games off of South Korea. It's a yearly posturing at North Korea, but it's not a good idea to be driving a torpedo boat anywhere near that mess."

Darkraven nodded at that. "Good point. But those exercises have never gone for more than three weeks, and it's been two so far."

"Add in wrap-up, and it'll be two more," Dutch commented. "Once the exercises are done, yeah, we can get Mister Potter to Hong Kong. It'll be a good warmup for getting back to up and running. Most smugglers here," Dutch explained to Harry, "take the war games as a time to get the paperwork caught up, boat maintenance done, that sort of thing. Nobody wants to get caught up shipping something fishy by an aircraft carrier on sub hunting practice.

"So, let Rock here crunch some numbers, and we'll get you a price," Dutch continued, gesturing at the Japanese man. "Why don't you all have a seat and we can discuss particulars."

They did so, and Harry looked around. The room wasn't identifiable to Harry as an office. No desks, only couches, chairs, and low tables. At the end of the room seemed to be a kitchenette.

"So, Mister Potter," Dutch began, "you mentioned that you're a minor. You look like you could just be a short adult."

"I turned fourteen on the thirtieth, sir," Harry replied.

"Huh. I guess looks can be deceiving," Dutch admitted as the door opened.

"We're full up, Dutch," a woman's voice called out. "Who the fuck are they?"

"Clients, Revy," Dutch calmly replied in the face of profanity. "Benny, did you get what we needed?"

"Sure did," a blond man replied as he rounded the couch. "It wasn't cheap, but the custom starter should fit just fine. Darkraven," he continued, holding out his hand to shake, "what brings you here? You usually just call."

"Work," Darkraven replied, shaking Benny's hand. "Mister Potter is a partner of ours, and he needs to get to Hong Kong. We're currently negotiating."

"Good fucking luck with that," the woman's voice floated from the kitchenette. "All the military bullshit has us locked down anywhere near there."

"That was explained to them already, Revy," Dutch said, a hint of warning in his voice.

Harry heard the woman sigh. "Fine, whatever, Dutch," she replied, dropping into a chair. Harry did blink at her appearance. A black crop-top covered her chest, with a pair of shoulder holsters. Extremely short jean shorts as well as untied combat boots completed her ensemble, and the tribal tattoo on her right arm went from the middle of her upper arm to the bottom of her hairline. "I'm Revy, that's Benny. You are?"

"I'm Harry Potter, this is Lara Croft," Harry replied, a little uncertain at the woman's tone.

"Mister Potter is having a little trouble traveling internationally, on account of being an unaccompanied minor," Dutch commented, lighting a cigarette. "Darkraven is here to negotiate over the price for when the route reopens."

"A minor?" Revy scoffed. "How old are you, kid?"

"Fourteen, ma'am," Harry replied politely.

"Holy shit," Revy laughed out. "British _and_ polite? Dutch, are we supposed to be keeping him alive here? I mean, this kid needs to be in a museum, or something. Ain't _nobody_ in this town this damn polite."

"Actually," Darkraven smoothly slid in, "Mister Potter will be largely on his own. Your company is only responsible for the trip. I'll be getting him a hotel room and such."

"And if he dies on the street?" Revy demanded. "'Cause a kid like him is going to get fucking _eaten_ out there."

"If that happens," Darkraven replied," then the Lagoon Company keeps the deposit. Standard procedure."

"He's right," Benny broke in, pulling up his own chair. "I usually handle the negotiations with them. They always pay half in advance, half on delivery. They're the only customer we have that pays within hours of receipt. Everyone else takes a few days."

"Huh. Okay, sounds good," Revy admitted. "What about, you?" she asked, pointing at Lara. "What's your deal?"

"I'm just here to make sure Harry is taken care of," Lara explained, bristling slightly at Revy's harsh tone. "Once his arrangements are covered, I'll be leaving with the rest of our team."

"Seriously?" Revy asked, leaning forward. "You're just gonna leave a teenager here in Roanapur? Either you're colder than I first read you, or something else is going on."

"I have every confidence that Harry can handle himself," Lara replied stiffly.

"Okay, fine," Revy replied. "As long as we ain't a babysitting service, I'll deal with it. And a milk run on top of it? Fuck yeah, sounds great."

Rock handed Darkraven a sheet of paper. "Here is the expense breakdown, as well as our markup."

Darkraven looked the numbers over, and then nodded. "Potter, it's your call. What do you think?" he asked, handing the sheet to Harry.

Harry looked it over. Clearly labeled, concise numbers flowed down the page. "Is this a good price for a trip to Hong Kong?"

"Oh yeah. Most local places would charge about three-quarters that, but would be less trustworthy."

"Then yes, I think I can agree to this. Please have Gringotts take care of it."

Dutch and Harry signed the paperwork, and Rock left the room to make arrangements. "So a run to Hong Kong is a few days," Benny began, "and the military exercises likely won't be finished for a couple of weeks. What will you be doing between now and then?"

Harry shrugged. "Studying, checking out local food. I mean, two weeks isn't a long time."

"That's fair. I was thinking you and I could sit down and compare notes," Benny said with a smile.

"On?" Harry asked, confusion on his face.

"Schools," Benny said, the smile still on his face. "You see, I know who you are. And I know your school. I went to Ilvermorny in the States."

"Oh. Oh!" Harry exclaimed in startlement. "Huh. Yeah, sure. It might be interesting."

"What the fuck are you two talking about?" Revy demanded. "And why the fuck are you looking at me like that, kid? Something British about how 'a lady shouldn't be crude'" she demanded in a mocking voice.

"Actually," Harry admitted, "I'm trying to figure out how to get away with swearing as much as you do."

Revy blinked, then threw her head back in laughter. "Oh, I think we're gonna get along _just_ fine, Harry."

"Anyways," Benny resumed as Rock came back in, "Harry and I are talking about our schools. Now that Rock's in here, I think we can discuss a few things. Dutch had to be let in to the secret when we started shipping for Gringotts. No, Revy," he said, mollifying Revy's angry expression, "we weren't keeping things from you on purpose. Well, we were, but you get mouthy when you've been drinking. And like it or not, you gossip with Eda when you two get half-a-bottle in."

"Yeah, I kinda do," Revy replied, a little quieter.

"Anyways, Harry and I are magicals. Wizards, actually. I went to Ilvermorny, he's at Hogwarts. Dutch is aware of it thanks to his time in the Navy."

"Coast Guard, actually," Dutch commented as he picked up a coffee mug. "And yeah, I saw some weird stuff in the jungle. It wasn't until Benny told me that I realized what it was that I'd seen."

Rock sighed, saying, "My brother is a wizard. Revy, do you remember that I said that my brother had a job with the government, while I was pretty much dismissed because I didn't get into college on my first try?" Revy nodded at that. "What I said was true, but from an angle. My parents and brother are magical, I am not. My brother _does_ work for the government; he's a magical policeman. But I was shunted aside because I wasn't magical like the rest of my ancestors, so I wasn't accepted into the Mahoutokoro School of Magic."

Squeezing her eyes closed, Revy pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered. "And Harry is one too, got it. What about you two?" she demanded, gesturing at Lara and Darkraven.

"I'm not," Darkraven admitted, "but I _am_ from a magical family."

"I am," Lara stated, "but Harry thinks I'm a kind of 'late bloomer'."

"And what the fucking hell am I supposed to be doing with this information?" Revy demanded.

"Nothing," Harry said quietly. "I think that Benny didn't want to leave you out when we started talking. And probably to warn you about some stuff in case you overheard it."

"At any rate," Darkraven cut in, getting to his feet, "Harry and I still have some business to get to today. Still need to hit the bank and get the hotel room."

Revy sighed. "Look, he'll be here for a couple weeks, right? The apartment building I live in does weekly and monthly rentals. It'd be cheaper than renting a hotel room, and it'll look like he migrated in if he's living where the locals do."

"That's a good point," Rock said. "Cheaper, and closer to the office in case something comes up. I live there too."

"Sounds good," Harry admitted, slowly getting up. "Shall we, then?"

Information was exchanged, and the trio left, only to be blasted by the mid-afternoon heat. Three hours later, Harry was at the airport saying his goodbyes.

Sam did pull him aside, saying, "Look, we were never really close on this trip, but I really want to say Thank You for saving me. You and Lara did something that I don't think I can every repay."

Harry just smiled at her, giving her a light hug. "I have always done whatever it took to help my friends. Sure, we weren't particularly close during all of this, but we can write and get closer as friends."

"I'd like that, Harry," Sam softly said before kissing him on the cheek.

An hour later, Darkraven was dropping Harry off at his apartment building. Settling in, Harry did a quick inventory. Local identification, money, a place to live that wasn't _entirely_ a slum, and he still had his bag.

Laying down, he fell asleep almost instantly, the events of the day having finally caught up with him.  
*****  
7 August, 1994  
Sunday

Harry woke slowly, his brain grudgingly awakening with the dawn as it peeked through the edges of the window shades. He stripped, showered, managed to shave without cutting himself too badly (puberty was _really_ coming in hard on Harry), and fixed himself some breakfast from the food still in stasis boxes in his bag.

Finally awake, he sat down and went over the previous day. "Well, crap. Stuck in Southeast Asia. At least I can relax a little," he muttered.

'I would hesitate to relax too much, young master,' Salim's voice lilted up.

"What do you mean?"

'I mean that while you might have been focused on other things, during the ride I was observing the local populace,' Salim commented dryly. 'There are a _lot_ of openly armed people in this city. Revy is simply one of them.'

"So... should I strap on the pistol?"

'Since the bag has it's own sheath, I would recommend the blade,' Salim admitted. 'However, you will want to discuss this with Benny or Rock first about the local rules. They strike me as mostly noncombatants, so they will likely not have a skewed view of how things operate here.'

Sighing, Harry got dressed. Pulling out the map that Darkraven had given him, he reviewed the route before pulling on his bag. Fifteen minutes (and a low-powered cooling charm) later, he walked into the Lagoon Company's office. 

"Morning, Harry," Dutch said from his seat. "You do know it's Sunday, right?"

Harry blinked at that. "I... I think that I forgot," Harry admitted.

"No harm done," Dutch said, sipping at a can of beer. "What can I do for you?"

Harry sat on the couch after setting his bag down at his feet. "I was wondering about local customs. On the car ride, I saw a lot of armed people on the streets. Is that normal?"

Dutch leaned back in his chair to consider the question. "I'd have to go with 'kind of'. Almost every armed person you see out there is a mercenary of some sort. And they're all paying the cops to look the other way when they operate. Mind, every one of them has a firearm license, so they're not owning illegally. The cops are also paid to look the other way at the open carry; that _is_ illegal in Thailand."

"I... see," Harry slowly said, thinking about that. "So, should _I_ be openly armed as well? You know, if I'm pretending to have moved here."

Dutch shrugged at the question. "Dunno, really. Revy and I are known to be armed, but we pay Chief Watsup to look away. We also have a reputation of friendly relations with the Chinese and Russians, so that helps keep idiots away. As for you, you're new in town, and not affiliated with anyone. And can you even _use_ a gun?"

Harry sighed. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out Roth's magnum pistol, the same handgun he'd shot Mathias with. "I used this a little over a week ago. I may not be very good with it, but I _can_ use it. I'm better with the submachine gun."

"May I see?"

Harry handed over the pistol before pulling out the submachine gun, laying it on the table.

"Nice pistol," Dutch admitted. "Well kept, too. Not something I'd expect from a Brit."

"Roth, the man who originally owned that, taught me how to maintain some firearms."

"Looks like he did good work. And this," Dutch said, laying the pistol down to gently pick up the submachine gun. "Oh, I haven't seen one of these in a while. A Japanese Type 100, in 8mm Nambu. Well kept too. This is a collector's piece."

Harry shrugged at that. "Beats me. All I know is that people were shooting at us with those. I probably have thirty or forty of the things. Ah, magic bag," he explained to Dutch's raised eyebrow. "It's bigger on the inside."

"I get it," Dutch admitted. "Benny has a similar set-up for his computer rig. The rack is a lot larger inside, letting him get more computer stuff in a smaller space. But this... Used, in good condition... You take this to a collector, you can probably get an easy five grand out of it."

"Huh. I never considered that these would be worth something," Harry mused aloud. "Anyways, yeah, I had to get decent with this. Cannibal sun cultists," Harry admitted to Dutch. "This and my sword really did me well on Yamatai."

"Hm. That's fair," Dutch said, handing the gun back to Harry. "So whether or not you should go armed is on you. I gotta say that how you're dressed doesn't stand out, so there's that. Your backpack is old army issue; pretty common out here. And you've got a lot of muscle mass, which'll help make people pause before robbing you.

"On the other hand, gun possession _is_ legal in Thailand. Need to be at least twenty, with no significant criminal record over the last five years. If you can get paperwork claiming that you're twenty, you can get licensed. As for the cops, they tend not to notice; there just aren't enough of them to try to enforce the 'No Open Carry' laws."

"May have to talk to someone about that."

"In any case," Dutch wrapped up, "unless you get a license to possess, I don't recommend carrying. You should be okay with a sword so long as it's in the sheath."

Harry nodded, pulling his falcata out of the back only to slide it into the sheath built into the bag. "Thanks, Dutch. I just didn't want to feel defenseless, not after Yamatai. That wasn't fun."

"So how _did_ someone so young get so muscular?" Dutch asked with a smirk.

"A potion," Harry admitted. "It all started in June..."  
*****  
8 August, 1994  
Monday  
Harry relaxed on his apartment bed, flipping through a book on runic languages. As it happened, Tom's knowledge was coming more and more in handy, as the runes were beginning to make more sense. And he and Salim had been discussing his previous use of wandless, silent summoning and banishing charms on Yamatai.

There came a pounding from his door, with Revy shouting, "Harry, Dutch called! He said to get you to the office for some shit!"

Rolling off the bed, Harry put on his bag and his boots. Opening the door, he said, "No need to shout; I've been awake since six."

"Really? Don't British kids have summer vacation?" Revy asked, leading him down the hall.

"We do, but I never got out of the habit of getting up early," Harry admitted as she led him to a large car.

"C'mon, you've got a meeting, Harry," Benny cheerily said from the driver's seat.

Climbing into the car, Harry asked, "Any idea what it's about?"

"Nope. All I know is that Dutch called and told me to come get you for a meeting."

A few minutes later, all three entered the Lagoon office to see Dutch looking a little nervous as he leaned against the counter. "Harry," he began, "the guy you're meeting is in the restroom. Apparently he had to floss because 'the locals were a little stringy'. Any idea what that's about?"

Harry shook his head at that. "Not offhand."

The restroom door opened, and out walked Slipshard. He was dressed in his suit, with a wide, toothy smile on his face. "Ah, if I had known what a _wonderful_ city I'd be going to, I'd have packed for holiday. Mister Potter! Wonderful, wonderful. Mister Dutch, do you mind if I borrow your office?"

"Actually, I conduct my business right here," Dutch admitted, gesturing to the couch. "And no, I don't care."

Slipshard hopped onto the couch and, pulling a valise out of his pocket before expanding it, he began pulling out paperwork as Harry sat across from him.

"Apart from the _thoroughly enjoyable_ walk from the embassy... Heh," Slipshard chuckled out. "Idiots thought I was some 'midget banker'. They'll live. Or not.

"Anyways, when our Hong Kong branch notified me that you had turned up, I began gathering my reports for you. There are a few items that will need your direct influence, but most of it will keep until your return to Britain."

"Makes sense," Harry said, nodding. "After all, there's still quite a bit in progress, right? So yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two is up! And Harry meets the Lagoon Company. Interestingly, I am having issues writing Rock, even though he's practically the narrator for the series. Dutch, Benny, and Revy? Easy stuff. Rock, less so.
> 
> I'm also have a LOT of fun writing Revy. Throughout this story, I've had to really pull back on the vulgarity to make it right. With Revy, it just flows.
> 
> Chapter Three is being edited now.


	3. Word From the Home Front

"First," Slipshard began, seemingly ignoring the entirety of Lagoon company as they sat down to listen in, "is your acquisition of Iridium. The satellite phone company was pretty heavily in debt, so making an offer was fairly simple. You now own all of it. Or will once you sign."

"I see. What are the difficulties with the company?"

"Mostly the satellite network. They had envisioned an independent communication network covering the globe. Unfortunately, only about a third of the satellites are up, even though all of them have been constructed. Their largest expense was getting them up there in the first place; only governments have the facilities for orbital launch. The other, lesser issue was the price of the materials for the receivers. In all honesty, that can be overcome by keeping up with materials advances, according to the technicians."

Harry considered that for a moment as his mind raced over his studies. "Wait, _all_ of the satellites are built?"

"Correct."

"How would... What would the reaction from muggle governments be for stuff just _appearing_ in orbit?"

"I'm not sure, but probably not positive. What are you thinking?"

Harry turned. "Benny, what do you know about portkey theory?"

"Quite a bit," the blonde man admitted, "but I never could get the skill to make one. I just don't have the knack for it. Why?"

"Portkeys can be set for coordinates, yeah?"

"Sure. That's pretty easy," Benny admitted.

"So..." Harry thought hard about what he was trying for. "I think... it's called an X-Y-Z axis? Like latitude and longitude, but with elevation. Something like that?"

"There's a magical version, but sure," Benny admitted.

"Wait, what the fuck is a portkey?" Revy asked, her hand up.

"A portkey," Rock began, "is a device enchanted for teleportation. The travel is supposed to be almost instantaneous, if unpleasant."

Revy blinked at that. "Wait, you want to _teleport_ a satellite into orbit?"

"Yup," Harry answered.

"That's a hell of a way to save money," Revy stated, cracking open a beer for herself.

"That's an interesting idea, Mister Potter," Slipshard said, noting it down. "Any others along these lines?"

Harry frowned. "Would it be possible to rig a portkey for remote activation? Like, push a button and it goes off?"

"Maybe," Benny mused aloud. "I'd have to run it by someone I know that does a lot of enchanting, but it should be possible."

Harry dug into his own bag, pulling out a notebook and a pen. "If... If we can enchant a section of a satellite, we can ward it for detection, impacts, stuff like that, yeah? A two-way portkey for maintenance?"

"Those might be possible, yes," Slipshard admitted. "That would certainly solve the issue of placement, as well as future maintenance issues; several technicians were complaining about trying to figure out how to update the system using only something called software."

"This would definitely do that," Benny said mildly.

"I'll talk to some people, see what can be done. Benjamin, may we contract you for research?"

"Sure. We're in the off-season for shipping, so a little extra would be nice. What was that about an independent network?"

Slipshard frowned. "Mind you, I don't actually understand a lot of the jargon here, but you might. Something about setting up a 'server farm'?"

"Ah. A server farm is a large quantity of computers all set up and linked for the same task. Think of it like an entire department of adding machines working in cooperation."

"Thank you for explaining. What would be required for this?"

Benny scratched the side of his head at that. "Lots of computer arrays, especially if you're talking global communications. Some kind of communications array to allow the computers to talk with the satellite network. And a large-scale cooling setup; server farms get _hot_."

Harry instantly dug through his bag, finally hauling out a cardboard box. He pulled several photographs out, saying, "Can we recondition World War Two communications equipment?"

"Sure," Benny admitted. "Honestly, most of that expense is the facility itself."

Harry slid out several pictures that Lara had taken. The bunkers were damaged, the radar dish tattered, but the radio tower stood tall, and her pictures of the communication console were clear.

"On Yamatai," Harry began, "the Japanese built facilities during the war to try and figure out what the deal was with the storms. There are bunkers _everywhere_. In the Northwestern part is the radio facility. Weirdly, it still has some electricity. I think it's steam-powered, but I don't know."

"Interesting," Slipshard said, looking over the pictures as he took notes. "I'll go over with with some people. Benjamin?"

"Sure, I know someone who specializes in repurposing stuff like this."

"As for the server farm... It gets hot... Would... What about like... Maybe a car radiator?"

"Liquid cooling really is best for high end computers," Benny said.

"Maybe... a radiator in the ocean?"

Benny leaned over, looking at the photographs. And then he looked at the satellite survey photo that Harry had laid on the table. "So, if the radio tower is here," he muttered, "you could run the whole mess _here_ , and just run coolant pipes down. Yeah, you can do that. Looks like you have an ideal location there, Harry."

"Where do I sign?" Harry asked, turning back to Slipshard.

"Right here," came the sharply grinning reply.

Harry did, and Slipshard pulled out another sheaf. "This one is a little different. A small firm out of California in the United States. The one seer assigned to your account says that they will rise greatly, only to fall just as greatly if we do not involve ourselves."

"And what do they do?" Harry asked.

"Something to do with something called 'The Internet'," Slipshard replied.

"More on me," Benny interjected. "The internet is a system designed for instant information sharing. Currently it uses the telephone lines to allow computers to talk to each other. From my rig, I can chat with a programmer in Sweden. If an internet provider can get common enough, everyone will use it. Huh," Benny paused, looking out the window. "If... If you have your own sat phone system, you could easily rig it to support an internet node with a server farm. Your own, independent, _global_ internet. Work out a deal with a telecom, and you could access the greater internet from any sat phone."

"Huh. Interesting," Harry said.

"Am I really seeing this, Dutch?" Revy asked off to the side. "Is this kid really building an empire right here in our fucking office?"

"Looks that way," Dutch admitted.

"So," Harry asked, "what is this one? Buyout or investment?"

"Ground floor investment, much like your grandfather did. Apparently they recently redesigned it, naming it Yahoo!."

"How much, and what's our percentage?"

Another slip of paper slid across the table. Harry looked it over, then said, "This seems like a really low cost."

"In all honesty, at this point it's little more than a guidebook."

"Actually," Benny interrupted again, setting his laptop on the table, "it's a heirarchical web directory. You type in what you're searching for, and it cross-references the internet sites known to it. See?" Harry and Slipshard both looked at the screen in confusion. "Basically, using something like this makes it easier to find something. Think of it like an automatic card catalog in a library."

"I see," Slipshard said, clearly not doing so. "At any rate, that investment number includes a permanent percentage of the company in perpetuity, I believe thirty percent, no matter how well or poorly the company does. Currently, they have a handful of people, but they expect to expand early next year."

"Do you think it's worth it?"

Slipshard shrugged at the question. "I honestly don't know enough about the technology to make a judgement either way. Benjamin?"

Benny looked at the web page, saying, "If I had the cash, I'd do it."

"It's not a crippling amount of money, so sure. Let's do that."

More signing, and then Slipshard pulled out another pack of papers. "Next is a bit of old business. As it happens, most of the magical firms that your family invested in are behind on their share payments. This mostly isn't their fault," he continued, holding up a hand, "as the account was locked down upon your father's demise. I need to know how you want to go forward with this."

"If... If they pay within a certain time frame, or produce some kind of reasonable payment system, then run it straight, no interest penalty. If they refuse, talk to Laura Langley about getting the money with penalties."

"Understood. Next, I have gone through the non-magical investments, and they are voluminous. In all honesty, there isn't too much tricky there. On the Potter side, we had to file an injunction against Games Workshop to keep the management from an internal leveraged buyout until you could make a decision. Had to do a little negotiating with the Score Group, but their proposed expansion shouldn't be an issue. The theatres and shops are doing passably well, and I personally went to Ford to discuss the issues with the Jaguar marque. Basically, once their purchase is complete, you will be cut out of the profits, but you will still receive three of every model. As it so happens, Ford has a magical division that manufactures flying brooms, so that was simple.

"As for the rest, all pretty normal. I did send some people to the various failed businesses to see what remained. As it happens, you have quite a bit of manufacturing capability on both sides of the fence. Here are the pertinent details," Slipshard said, sliding a folder over.

"Now, for the Evans side. This was far more clear cut, if more complicated. The only real tricky issue there was the percentage of profits going to the Evans Foundation. But I have people looking into the back-and-forth of the profits; I should have something definitive for you in a few weeks.

"As for what you mentioned in my office a month ago..." Slipshard sighed, shaking his head. "I do believe that you may have to start your own management firm. The sheer volume of management is starting to get out of hand, and I don't think that the personnel that the Board has allowed me can handle it."

"I see," Harry mused, his chin in his palm. "I'll have to consider that."

"It's nothing immediate," Slipshard reassured Harry, "but a decision _will_ be required within a year."

"Something for later then, got it."

"So, about Yamatai, Mister Potter. How did that investment sound out?"

Harry groaned, slumping forward. "Fucking _awful_. But not without merit. We found it; that's what the pictures are of. Cannibal sun cultists, undead samurai. Here," Harry said, pulling out more pictures, "are the upper palace, some of the shrines, and a lot of the buildings. According to Lara, it's mostly Kamakura period with some bunkers thrown in. Oh, and a beached battleship. Some of the bunkers have anti-ship cannons built into them.

"As it turns out, Yamatai is here," Harry continued, laying out a map of the Western Pacific, pointing at a spot. "It was marked by pretty much everyone as 'Do Not Enter; You Will Die'. The storms are now under my control; I have them set to repel ships rather than pull them in and wreck them."

"Interesting. And how did this occur, Mister Potter?"

Harry scrubbed at his face, a troubled, haunted expression showing through. "Himiko was only half dead. A botched soul-transfer ritual trapped her in her own corpse, but didn't let her leave. The samurai, trapped in their magically binding vows of service, couldn't die normally either. Due to... certain circumstances, I was able to take command of the island's ward net, kick out Himiko, and reset the storms."

"Hey, Harry?" Revy asked nervously, pointing at his brow. "You got... lightning around your head?"

"Gah," Harry eloquently stated, getting himself back under control. "Damnit, I didn't think that would happen so far away from Yamatai. Short answer, I fucked up. You're looking at the new Sun King of Yamatai.

"Which reminds me. Where do I need to go to get the paperwork for registering a magical kingdom with the ICW?"

Slipshard blinked at that, before saying, "Try the British Magical Embassy. They would be the best for that manner of thing."

"Great. And for now, I have no idea what to do with Yamatai. The whole place is under some kind of preservation charms, so the corpses aren't rotting away. And there's _a thousand years of corpses piled into the corners!_ I mean, it would be absolutely gorgeous if I could find a way to clean and fix it all up, but I don't even know where to begin."

"Hrm. Is it dangerous, Mister Potter?"

"Apart from the surviving cultists and a lethifold colony, not really. The remaining samurai are now dedicated to me, and so long as a person is wearing a certain symbol, they'll be safe from the Stormguard. Only really dangerous animals are wolves. I don't honestly think that there are any actual traps there, just the crippling storms and violent residents. I just don't know where to go from here, you know?"

"I understand, Mister Potter. And I'm sure we can figure something out. I'll ask around a bit, get some pricing. Any idea of the resources there?"

"You mean apart from crashed ships and aircraft? Let me think. There's some kind of heavy lift system that spans the southeast quarter of the island; it's part of a ship breaking set up. There's all the gold statues, the historical artifacts. There are a ton of military bunkers, most of them worn and cracked with time, but relatively intact. Oh, and let's not forget the active lava under the island; Lara saw it first-hand under the shanty town."

Slipshard stared at all of that. "So, quite a lot for a dedicated crew. Hm. Would you object to a preliminary examination force to check matters on your behalf?"

"Probably not," Harry admitted. "I just want to make sure nothing gets off the island. If it gets out to the wrong people that Yamatai has been found, the place will be swarmed with historians. And I don't want that. I worked too damn hard to get control of that rock to just give up my claim."

"I understand, Mister Potter," Slipshard said. "And I will proceed slowly with this. I do urge you to take some time and figure out what direction your end goal should be for the island."

"Right, got it. I know that the rest of the survivors from the Endurance are on their way to Britain. They can give you more reports. I'll write up what all happened and get it to you within a couple of weeks."

"That sounds fantastic. Nothing else for now on that front. On the new genealogy system, we have been making strides. It's still rather experimental, but we are making headway."

"That sounds great," Harry replied with a trace of exhaustion in his voice. "So long as there isn't anything pressing, I can finally relax again."

"Yes, and in such a wonderful city!" Slipshard enthused. "Had I known that Roanapur was so entertaining, I'd have come here _years_ ago! But for now, get yourself together. You've earned a holiday. And the embassy is still allowed to ship letters and packages. You'll want to speak with the secretary about how to contact you."

"Of course. Thank you, Slipshard. I really couldn't do this without you."

"I know," Slipshard replied cheekily as he put his paperwork away. "But it's good to be appreciated. Good day."

Slipshard left, and as soon as the door closed, Revy turned to Harry, hissing out, "What the holy horsefuck was that?!"

"That was Slipshard. He's an auditor for Gringotts Bank. He's also a goblin," Harry replied blandly. "Dutch, you mind if I grab a glass of water?"

"Go ahead," Dutch replied in his deep voice. "Although I have to admit, I never would have taken you for a rich person, Harry."

"I'm not," Harry replied, filling his glass from the tap. "Except that I am. I grew up purely middle class, and only recently found out that my family was loaded. Orphan, you see."

"Right, Benny filled us in on the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing after you left yesterday," Dutch admitted. "So am I right in guessing that he actually _bit_ someone on his way here?"

Harry shrugged, sipping his water while leaning against the counter. "Beats me, but probably. Slipshard doesn't strike me as the type to make stuff up."

"Goblin. A real life, no shit goblin," Revy muttered. "What the fuck have we gotten into, Dutch?"

"Welcome the the part of the world that they keep from you, Revy," Rock gently said. "There is a huge set of laws about keeping the magical and non-magical worlds separate. But every year it gets closer and closer to spilling over."

"Rock's right," Benny admitted. "Look at all the security cameras going up in various cities. All it takes is one thing not making sense, and a cop starts asking questions. That cop suddenly forgets all about the incident, and his buddies are going through the footage. They find more incidents, and all of a sudden, an awful lot of people are trying to figure out why nobody on that video can remember any of it. Then they start looking at _more_ footage, and discover that these incidents are happening all over the place. Eventually, they spot one of the people doing stuff, taze that guy, and interrogate him. Boom, the magical world is revealed."

Harry nodded at all of that. "I'm still in school, and they keep pounding into us the the Statute of Secrecy is an absolute, that it cannot be broken under any circumstance. But all it's going to take is the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now that I'm out in the world, I can really see it for the crock that it is. Especially since there are a lot of British magicals that believe that non-magicals are at best still stuck in the 1950s, and at worst consider them a quaint sort of talking animal.

"Slipshard is a goblin who works for the bank of Gringotts in London. And yeah, he probably took some bites out of people who tried to mug him. Goblins count as Magical Beings. Unlike, say, unicorns or dragons. Those are Magical Creatures."

"Harry and I learned about this stuff at our schools," Benny said, tapping at his laptop, "while Rock probably was brought up in it." Rock nodded at that. "I told Dutch a couple of years ago, handed him some books so that he knew what to look out for. You? You're just finding out."

"Wait, hold up," Revy interrupted, throwing up both of her hands. "Just how many of these magic fuckers are in Roanapur?"

Harry shrugged, while Benny said, "Not more than a hundred. It's roughly estimated that magicals only make up a quarter of a percent of the population world-wide."

"And... What the hell do I do about this shit?" Revy demanded, slowly rising.

Dutch laid his hand heavily on her shoulder, forcing her back into the chair. "Nothing. You do nothing, Revy," Dutch calmly replied. "The world isn't any different. There's just a new twist you never knew about. The world still sucks, the world still doesn't care, the only difference here is like finding a new brand of bullet. That's it."

Revy caught her breath, slowing her heartbeat. "So, was I wrong about you building an empire here in our office, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, saying, "Beats me. I'm just trying to invest my money in something that won't suck. Or fail. Or suck _and_ fail. The phone and computer things? I told Slipshard to invest in communications and computers. This was what he came up with. All the other stuff came from my grandparents. Yeah they were rich, but why not add my own to the pile, y'know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it, Harry."

Thirty minutes later, Harry stood on the small balcony outside of the Lagoon office, watching the traffic pass by. He heard the door slide open, and then closed, before Dutch's voice came up from beside him. "You alright there, Harry?"

"Maybe," Harry answered honestly. "Even bringing up Yamatai was exhausting. And now I have to write up a report to my investment manager because I'm the only surviving investor."

"Reliving shit isn't easy," Dutch admitted, leaning on the railing as he lit a cigarette. "There's a lot of people out there who relive shit every minute of their lives. It eats at 'em, destroys 'em. A man once told me, 'Every person you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.' That really resonated with me."

Dutch's hand swept across Roanaur's skyline. "Hell, the whole city's like that. Every person has their story, and every person has some kind of fight on their hands that nobody knows anything about."

"I like that," Harry murmured. "I like knowing that other people have problems too. That it's not just me, y'know?"

"Now, I don't know what happened to you, and I'm not going to ask. That's your business. Whole city's like that too. You get personal with someone you don't know well enough, and bad shit happens. So nobody asks personal questions; we just leave it to the other person if they want to go there."

"That's... comforting too," Harry admitted. "Too many people wanting to know what's going on with me, with the Boy-Who-Lived. Too few people asking how Harry is. That I can be here and be Just Harry might end up a nice thing."

"So, Just Harry," Dutch said with a grin in his voice, "what now?"

Harry breathed for a few moments before asking, "How well do you know Roanapur?"

"Been here since '76."

"Any idea where I can find a good, magically aware therapist?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. There's a lot of dry reading in the opening couple of days, but I'm establishing certain facts. The story will pick up from here, I promise.


	4. A Letter from Home

The next few days passed quietly for Harry. He learned rather quickly about what Roanapur had to offer in the lines of food and services. In the mornings, he would hit various food places for a breakfast that would range from soup to a spicy crab salad. He spent a few hours every morning mentally chatting with Salim about his newfound ability to not have to use a wand for certain spells, as well as spell theory. The afternoons would range from talking with Benny about the logistics of teleporting satellites into orbit while being jokingly heckled by Revy, to lounging on a beach and soaking up the sun, to wandering around shopping for odds and ends that caught his eye. Evenings were spent mostly in study, and trying to transcribe what he had gone through on Yamatai.

On Saturday the thirteenth, Harry paused in his afternoon wandering, a sign catching his notice. The symbol in the corner was clearly magical, even if it was on a local doctor's ad board. Walking inside, he shivered at the sudden change in temperature before walking up to the receptionist behind a low wall.

"May I help you, sir?" the older woman asked in heavily accented english.

"I hope so," Harry replied. "I saw the sign out front, and I was hoping to speak with one of your healers if they had a moment."

The woman blinked as she translated the words in her head (an expression that Harry had learned _very_ early) before smiling. "Of course. Have a seat, and I'll see if she's available."

A few minutes later, a very elderly woman hobbled out. Her hair was silver, and smile lines completely encompassed her face. Dressed in western surgical scrubs, they were decorated in intricate patterns picked out in gold thread that Harry instinctively recognized as magical, even if he didn't know what the symbols meant.

"I am Doctor Gurimurra," the woman said in a grandmotherly tone. "And you are?"

"Harry Potter, ma'am," Harry replied, standing to bow.

"And what is your medical issue, young man?"

"I actually don't have one," Harry admitted. "I saw the sign out front which had the symbol of the International Healer's Guild on it, and was hoping to... Well, I'm not sure _what_ I was wanting to do, actually. Maybe donate, maybe trade some spells?"

Gurimurra chuckled lightly at his admission. "I see. Being young, you are prone to impulsiveness, as are we all at your age. Come into the back, and we'll talk."

A few minutes later, Harry was seated in front of a desk, while Gurimurra was behind it. "So you're exactly not sure why you're here," she began, playing with a pen. "Do you know what prompted you to come in?"

Harry considered this for a moment, before saying, "I was recently on an exploration expedition, and ended up being the medic for the group. Thankfully, I was advised by a curse breaker to pack a lot of potions, and I know a few spells that are probably considered either lost or out of date."

"Interesting," she mused aloud. "Would you please tell me what you used?"

Harry did, sparing no detail of the wounds suffered by himself and Lara, as well as the potions used and the names of the spells (even if he stuttered over the pronunciations in ancient languages), as well as their effects.

"Interesting. Most interesting. The potion use was good, and it sounds as if you have a good handle on the spells involved. What would you say was your most substantial issue?"

"Casting time," Harry instantly stated. "The sleep time compression spell took about thirty seconds to cast, while the muscle knitter took almost a minute."

"Mmm. Yes, I can see that. Unfortunately, spellcraft evolution tends to be like that. The older spells tend to be more powerful and precise, but take longer to cast, while the modern medical spells tend to take a greater amount of mental focus, even if the casting itself is a couple of words.

"I believe that I can help you, young man," she began, perking up, "but not quite in a manner you were considering. Have you given any thought to joining the Healer's Guild as an apprentice?"

Harry's eyes widened at that. "Not really, no. Do... do you really think I might have a talent for it?"

"What makes you think you might not?" she asked curiously.

"Well, my best subject has always been Defense," Harry admitted, looking down at his hands, "probably because it tends to be practical work without a lot of theory. I just get hurt a lot due to circumstances."

"What about your ability to brew potions?"

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. "At my school, the potions teacher is _horrible_. Yeah, he knows his stuff, but is a crap teacher. I think I taught myself more in three weeks at sea than I learned in three years of potions classes at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts, you say?" she asked, her eyes glinting dangerously. "Oh, _Snape_. Yes, _him_ I am all too aware of."

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked in confusion. "How do you know Professor Snape?"

Gurimurra sighed, adjusting slightly in her chair. "Better that I say I know _of_ Potions Master Snape. My guild _despises_ that man and his teaching," she spat out. "The man should be hanged for _treason_ for poisoning so many young minds against the skill of brewing potions over the last decade. A solid background in brewing is essential to any healer, indeed to many fields, and that man has set back our international efforts by _years_ by forcing us to have to teach a vast number of English apprentices what they _should_ have learned at Hogwarts."

"I... hadn't considered that," Harry softly said. "I mean, a lot of his stuff on what _not_ to do was useful, but for the actual brewing, well..."

"Precisely, young man. So, back to the topic. What potions do you find simplest for you?"

"Medical potions," Harry admitted. "Basically, the kinds of potions that our school healer has been feeding me over the past few years. Blood replenisher, Skelegrow, Pepperup, that sort of thing."

"Interesting. Hm. Potter... You're family name is Potter, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Any relation to Euphemia?"

"My grandmother."

Gurimurra's face broke out into a wide grin. "Ah, the heir to the Sleekeazy empire. Yes, I know of your family now. They are rather famous in healing circles. One of your ancestors invented Skelegrow and Pepperup about eight centuries ago. I suppose that skill _does_ breed true, eh?"

"Didn't know that," Harry admitted. "When I get back to Britain, there's a lot of stuff I'm going to have to learn."

"Ah, but that is the essence of life, young man. A wise man once said, 'The day in which there is nothing left to learn is the day they'll bury me'. Continuing to learn is one of the everlasting joys of life," she commented with a smile. "So, interested in a possible apprenticeship?"

"I think," Harry began slowly, "that something like that would be good for me. I do like helping people, and learning healing stuff would help keep me alive to keep doing that."

"Do you have anything happening today?"

"No, ma'am."

"Well then," she began, still smiling, "let's see what you know so that we can see how much we need to build on."

It was early evening by the time Harry managed to get back to his apartment. Gurimurra was _brutal_ in her assessment scale, but honest. She liked that he wasn't squeamish about blood, his wand work was precise, and his knowledge of ancient historical magic was quite useful. She did comment about his power output, saying that his current wand might not be enough to handle the large amounts of magic that he was capable of, and that he'd need a more reinforced focus. The pair agreed that Harry would come to her clinic for instruction and volunteer work three times a week to get a long-term assessment for a referral while he was in Roanapur, barring external interruptions.

Harry grabbed his shower (having discovered that waking up sticky from the previous day's sweat was _disgusting_ ), Harry slept the sleep of the exhausted.

The next morning found Harry buying some fish from one of the river night fishing boats. Not far from the Lagoon docks, he set up a small blaze in one of the steel fire rings and began roasting his snakeheads. He'd also purchased some rice and noodles from a breakfast place.

"Yo, Harry!" He turned to see Revy walking up looking awfully cheerful for such an early hour.

"Hey Revy," Harry replied, stacking a little more cherry wood into the ring.

"Benny says he needs to talk to you. Apparently the goblin came through on some shit. Got papers to sign and a box to open."

Harry smiled at that. "Getting nosy, Revy?"

"Damn straight," she admitted with a grin, sitting across the fire from Harry in the sand. "Our new customer is building a fucking empire in our office, and suddenly gets a package? Fuck yeah, I want to know what's in there."

Harry chuckled at that. "Well, business will have to wait until after breakfast. Jonah taught me how to roast fish, and I don't want that going to waste."

"That's a lot of fish," Revy said, counting the half dozen foot-long snakeheads on sticks slowly roasting over the merrily burning flames.

"I have nutritional requirements," Harry replied. "Fruit and veg for lunch, fish and rice for breakfast, supper is one of the buffet places. After all, I'm a growing boy."

"Ain't that the truth," Revy laughed out, pulling out her pack of cigarettes. "And you've lost some weight in the last few days. The fuck is up with that?"

"It's the potion I'm on," Harry admitted. "It was designed to correct my crappy childhood, only I took the latest dose just before landing on Yamatai. Two days of really harsh activity forced the potion to build me up to what you saw when I arrived."

Revy whistled at that. "And now? I mean seriously, you probably lost twenty pounds."

"The results are dictated by activity and diet," Harry said, poking a bit of burning wood into position. "My diet here is good, but my activity is less. I still run in the mornings, but I'm not taking zip lines three miles at a time. I'm not climbing rock faces while being shot at, and I'm not fighting samurai with a sword and a wand. I'm finally enjoying my summer holiday. _And_ I haven't been mugged yet!"

"Jesus Fucking Christ," Revy muttered, shaking her head. "I've been here a few years, and I've seen people get whacked when they stepped off the damn boat. You're here a week, and it's fucking vacation for you?"

Harry just shrugged. "I was lucky. Between having enough money to not have to worry and apprenticing with Gurimurra, I think I'll be really enjoying this. Hell, I might actually _miss_ Roanapur by the time I leave!"

"Only you, buddy," Revy commented, tossing her spent cigarette butt towards the sea. Standing, she brushed the sand off of her legs, saying, "Well, I'll let Benny know that you'll be by after you get done stuffing your face."

Revy walked away, and Harry couldn't help but admire her muscular legs and lower back as she departed. From the back of his mind, he heard, 'An impressive example of womanhood.'

Harry sighed at that. "Yeah, she is."

An hour later, Harry walked into Lagoon Company's dock office. Harry did stare at the well kept PT boat with it's four deck mounted torpedo tubes. He could hear muffled cursing coming from inside of it; apparently Dutch was doing something inside the Lagoon.

Harry finally entered the office above the enclosed dock, seeing Rock and Benny there; Revy was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey guys," Harry greeted them cheerfully.

Rock nodded to him, bent over paperwork, while Benny said, "Hey Harry. Slipshard came through with a few things. Paperwork and presents, looks like."

Harry sat down at the available desk where a small wooden crate rested on the floor. On the desk was an envelope. "Where's Revy?" Harry asked. "I know she was being nosy."

"Bathroom," Rock replied.

Harry sat at the desk and opened the envelope. Pulling out the papers, he read the cover letter first.

_Mister Potter_   
_Contained herein are a few items that I believe require either your immediate recommendation or personal interest for usefulness. Due to the vast range of investments, I found considerable difficulties in distilling down the bits that I felt would be of a more immediate importance. The less immediate items will be seen to after your return to Britain._

_First is your new satellite telephone. It comes with all of the attachments, but will need to be 'charged', whatever that means. Also included is a small binder folder with the 'number' of the telephone. Five telephones with 'numbers' have been included, in case you feel the need to give one or two away, or need someone to explain how the device works. The satellites above Southeast Asia and Western Europe have been tested as regularly communicating, so reception shouldn't be too much of an issue._

_Also included are a dozen satellite pagers. Apparently they are used for some sort of one-way alert system, but are keyed to the satellite system. They are prototype models for field testing; the technicians will be wanting performance reports._

_Next is a boxed set of a strategy game called Warhammer 40,000. Games Workshop is trying to make this their new flagship line, and only our interference prevented the management from going heavily into debt to buy out the other employees' shares. I have a feeling that this could be an interesting item for the magical market, especially if the Magical Sandbox is used. Please go through this material and let me know your opinion. Gobrot has agreed with my estimate, and indeed has a set of figurines for herself to experiment with._

_Gobrot's Magical Sandbox is beginning to take off. Your investment was the final, crucial method needed to get over the final obstacle. She already is planning a better version now that she can afford finer grain sand in various colors. She also has requested use of a manufacturing facility. If I may recommend that she be allowed to use the old Universal Broom facility? It's large enough to allow her new equipment, and can is warded for magical use. I would have recommended the Swallow Sidecar facility, except that it is too well known to the locals. And it still contains to old industrial equipment to produce the old models of automobiles._

_I recall your previous letter in which you detailed the damage done to your broom while on Yamatai. I have taken the liberty of going to the old Universal Broom facility (which you own) and grabbed their tomes and notes on broom construction. Shipping a broom internationally can get contrary and difficult, given various national statutes on flying devices, so I figured that sending you notes and volumes on construction would be better served._

_I have also enclosed the business address of Randolph Spudmore so that you can ask them how to get your broom repaired. I do recommend you considering making an offer of advertising the Firebolt with them. After all, discounts on products are never a bad thing, plus you never know what new thing they'll come up with. And having the Boy-Who-Lived state that the Firebolt literally saved his life in an interview would be an excellent advertising campaign for them. I personally feel that you both would come out ahead on that. Your fame needs to be used before someone else takes command of it._

_I have contracted an independent historian for the examination of Yamatai. His name is Frank Morgan, and his team has been approved for use by our own workers. Morgan's record for getting this sort of thing done is voluminous, and the man himself is considered to be beyond tenacious. He will get to the bottom of Yamatai's secrets, and leave with_ only _his pay. This is an iron-clad guarantee. Once your telephone has been activated, he will be calling you._

_Last but not least are the two technology companies. Yahoo! is eager to follow Harcourt's idea of an independent 'internet' based on the Iridium technology. Meanwhile, Harcourt has been in communication with Iridium's technicians, and we have placed a person on the staff as a direct representative of the new owner's interests. Her name is Gorgo Jurgens, a First-Generation witch from the United States. Extremely intelligent, and quite young insofar as education goes. She is still very capable. She came highly recommended by one of our own people who is working on the Geneaology Project, and after I had someone who can navigate the non-magical educational system, she is eminently qualified. She is also accustomed to security arrangements and requirements; many people (including her uncles) in her tightly knit community are former or reserve military, and cannot legally be spoken of._

_Jurgens was schooled in magic at home by her parents and neighbors, and has the tested equivalent of Masteries in Defense, Arithmancy, and Potions. On the non-magical side, she has Master's Degrees in Mathematics and Practical Physics, a Bachelor's Degree in Ballistics, and certifications as Machinist, Gunsmith, and Cosmetology. Personally, I have no idea what most of that means, but I have been assured that this is exactly the sort of person that we need at Iridium Communications. She has already gotten the specifications of the satellites and the mathematics of their positioning, and as soon as Morgan has the full report of Yamatai, she wants to begin planning the internet installation. That is, assuming you still want to go that route._

_I believe that this covers the immediate investment load that requires your immediate input. As for the rest, matters are steadily moving forward, and I have every confidence that we will have the fullness of the matters completely in hand by the beginning of the new year._

_Oh, I nearly forgot. Your elf has a telephone of his own; it was part of how we tested the satellite on this side of the world. A list of applicable 'telephone numbers', has been written down and included with this letter. Please do remember that Thailand is seven hours ahead of Britain._

_Sincerely,_   
_Slipshard_

Harry laid the letter down, considering all of that. "Hey, Benny? Slipshard says that he got a specialist for Iridium. Someone magical."

"That's good. Any idea who?"

"Umm... Gorgo Jurgens."

Benny blinked at that. "Never heard of her. But if she's qualified, great."

"I got her number too," Harry said, writing that down. "I'm guessing that you two will need to coordinate on the project."

"Fuck that," Revy interrupted, "what's in the goodie bags?"

Harry shook his head before tapping the single cubic crate with his wand. Instantly, it expanded into a three foot cube. Tapping it again, the lid unsealed, and Harry simply lifted it off.

"Holy... Benny, is this how Dutch fits so much shit in the Lagoon?" Revy asked, awe lacing her voice.

"No, that's just good packing," Benny replied. "Although if we were to expand the cargo hold, we could really pack a lot of stuff in there. But we can't, given all the maritime inspections we have to go through."

"That would be problematic," Rock commented, having put away his own paperwork. "The last thing we need is more attention. And I doubt we'd be able to pay off some magicals in a currency that they'd recognize."

Harry mostly ignored this interchange, instead reaching in to the crate. He pulled out four different box sets of Warhammer 40,000, the five sat-phone boxes, a small, plain box marked 'Warning: Prototypes', several books, a photo album, and a crudely bound sheaf of parchment.

"Well, _that_ was a boring haul," Revy muttered, sitting back down. "All geek stuff."

"I wouldn't say that," Rock commented, picking up one of the phone boxes. "A satellite phone, in theory, can get a signal anywhere on the planet, not just in a city. The theory is that a person can be on top of Mount Everest, or deep in the Sahara and still get a signal. Absolutely useful for scientists and explorers."

"And then there's Harry's idea of routing the internet through the phone," Benny cut in. "Harry, are any of these phones active?"

"Slipshard wrote that they all were," Harry confirmed. "They'll need charging, but they all are in the network."

"Interesting," Benny mused aloud. "I wonder..." Reaching into his bag, Benny pulled out a small, hand-sized device. "This is a palmtop mini-computer. Specifically, a Hewlitt-Packard 200LX. On the back, I've installed an audio modem so that I can use it with a regular phone. I want to see if I can connect to my servers on the Lagoon with your sat-phone."

Harry shrugged, and began opening up a box. Ten minutes later (and much haggling back and forth over the instructions with Benny, only to have Revy snatch the booklet away and _tell_ them exactly how to do it), Harry finally got it booted up. As it initialized, Harry asked, "What should the test call be?"

"The office," Rock replied, tapping the phone. Three minutes later, the Lagoon Company office was ringing. Harry promptly saved that number before handing the phone to Benny.

Benny managed to get the microphone and speakers on the handset placed to his audio modem, and made the call. Twenty seconds later, he was tapping at the tiny keyboard. "Holy shit, we're in," he whispered. "A six hundred baud modem isn't fast, but it connects."

After hanging up, he handed the phone back to Harry. "Hm."

"What're you thinking, Harry?" Rock asked.

"Well," Harry began, "if you can use the phone to dial another computer, and it works, could... could you build a palmtop _into_ the phone case?"

Benny stared at Harry for a moment. "Huh. Interesting idea, Harry. If we... Hm. Have to reconfigure the case, maybe dual-task the components. A new screen, flip-out keyboard. Yeah, I think it could be done. You'd have to get a whole different chipset, one that isn't proprietary. The screen... You could easily go color; the Sega Gamegear comes to mind for that. Hell, you could work in a working TV; the Gamegear has a cartridge for that.

"And if you can get decent reception, access to the internet would be pretty simple," he continued, looking over the case of the phone. "Keyboard, color screen, and an integral thumb mouse or a small track ball. If you were to adjust the coding, I'm fairly sure you can have the phone on a dual-purpose setting. Like, one setting is for satellite, the other is for local cellular service. It'd be interesting, and something you'll have to talk to your techs about."

"Interesting," Harry murmured, noting those ideas down. "I'll wait until later to make some calls; Slipshard reminded me that Britain is seven hours ahead of Thailand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a long while to crank out, but I got it. I'm not 100% happy with it, but I don't think that I can make it better at this point.
> 
> The delay is thanks to new work schedules for my wife and me. I'm back on 5 day weeks (we were at 3 due to lack of business), and my wife is on 8 hour rotating swing shifts. It's all messed up.
> 
> As always, Constructive Comments and Criticisms are welcome!


	5. The First Job

The remainder of the morning was spent with Benny going over the proposed alterations to the phone, as well as Revy fishing through one of the Warhammer box sets and reading through the rule book.

The afternoon, spent a couple of hours writing letters to Neville, Hermione, and Ron, as well as finishing his completed report on Yamatai. He also sent along some presents, as well as one of the Warhammer sets to Ron to try and figure out. After posting them through the embassy, Harry went back to his apartment for a nap.

That evening, Harry dressed and, donning his ever-present backpack, went out into the nightlife of Roanapur. Different stores were open, as well as more restaurants, food stalls, and all of the bars and strip clubs. Harry marveled, as the brightly lit night time Roanapur was nearly as bright as day time, and infinitely more loud and lively.

But Harry was out on a mission. He'd overheard Benny talking with Revy about her favorite food stall, and Rock chimed in with his own. Interestingly, the both of them were only open at night, first to the bar crawlers, and after the bars and clubs closed down they would serve supper to Roanapur's Night People, the folks who actually worked the nightlife scene in the city.

Roaming from street to street, Harry kept clear of the alleys and darkened sections of the city, having heard that the more desperate denizens tended to lurk there. Various barkers called out for him to enter various strip and sex show clubs, and women with too much makeup pleaded for him to come and join them for a drink inside of a bar. Harry politely refused all of them, keeping moving with the crowd.

Finally, almost two hours into his journey (Roanapur was not a small city), he came across a certain food stall. It was done up as a western food cart, but had short plastic stools and tables laid out on the sidewalk in front of it. Walking up, Harry saw that the man behind the cart had extended it's sides, and slices of thin crust pizza were rotating under heat lamps. A low rumble from the cart itself told Harry that there was some sort of generator inside of it, which was powering everything.

Three slices of pizza and two more hours later (as well as a substantial increase in the amount of cleavage being presented as the night grew later), Harry stopped at the second stall. It was set up like a tiny restaurant, with short extendable walls and flip-out stools. There, a man was flipping small balls of dough in an unusual pan. Harry sat, and ordered a serving of takoyaki.

As the dish was laid before him, the stool next to him became occupied. Eyes flicking only slightly (yet another thing Harry was swiftly becoming adept with), he noted a tall, blonde, extremely fair-skinned man. Slightly unshaven, with a complicated piercing set up in his left ear (Harry saw a lot of green chains linking at least six sapphire and ruby studs).

"You Harry Potter?" the man asked.

"Maybe," Harry hedged out. blowing on the ball he'd taken a bit out of. "You?"

"My name is Green Tooth Johnny," the man admitted before ordering a can of Pocari Sweat. "I was hoping to ask you to middleman a deal for me with Lagoon Company."

Harry blinked at that, considering as he chewed the delicious (and hot!) ball of dough, sauce, and octopus. "And why wouldn't you just hit the office? I know that Dutch is itching for work right now."

Johnny sighed, sipping his drink. "Because Dutch only does business during the day, and that doesn't work for me. Sun sensitivity," he explained, shrugging.

"Uh-huh," Harry replied, doubt edging into his voice.

"That, and Dutch also doesn't like doing business after hours unless it's with one of the bigwigs," Johnny continued. "They all pay well enough to go the extra bit for, so pretty much anyone in town will bend over backwards for 'em."

"And why me?"

"Because you're new in town and already associated with Revy," Johnny replied. "That means that you represent an 'in' with them, because they're notoriously picky in their jobs."

"Okay, I can see that," Harry admitted. The last few days had been highly educational for Harry in how a high-end courier service functioned. "So, let's say that I do this middlemanning. What's in it for me?"

"Local standard is that ten percent of the offer is added to the cost, which is yours," Johnny said, turning on his stool. "However, I think I may be able to top that."

"I'm interested," Harry said, spearing another takoyaki ball on his toothpick.

"See, I do a lot of cleaning up for people," Johnny began. "And if I'm dealing with someone's... 'problem', then I don't see much point in not making sure to allow myself enough time to loot the place to the bedrock. See where I'm going here?"

"I think so," Harry replied from around a mouthful of hot octopus. "Means you have stuff I might want instead of money."

"Exactly," Johnny replied with a smile, revealing a long canine tooth made of green jade. "Now, I already know that you're magical. C'mon," Johnny continued in an exasperated tone, "it isn't like some of us here can't _smell_ it on you, man. A few of the locals are sensitive to that stuff." Harry nodded an admission to that. "So I, being something of a specialist, have managed to amass a not insignificant collection of... let's call it esoterica, yeah? I figure that since I can't use any of it, and selling it at a decent value is too much of a pain in the ass to want to deal with, I figure that if I can trade it to you in exchange for this, we both win."

"Makes sense. And I seem to be having difficulties in _just_ having a holiday," Harry admitted. "I need to keep busy. So what's the work?"

"There's a container ship headed for Satun. One of the shipping containers can't make it there. Now, my clients don't care what happens to this container, so long as it doesn't make it into the hands of what's left of the Manisalera Cartel. They don't care if it gets resold, or if it gets dumped in the ocean. I have an envelope full of the details, route, ship registry, and so on. All the details that Dutch would normally ask for."

Harry sighed as he swallowed the last of the delicious takoyaki. "I can do that. So, what are you offering me?"

"One trunk full of esoterica. I have a half-dozen of the damn things, each the size of a steamer trunk from the turn of the century. And all of them are filled to the brim with stuff. You successfully negotiate this for me, and I have one of the trunks dropped off wherever you want. And I can guarantee that none of the trunks contain trash. It's all your kind of stuff, and not a bit of it is garbage. I might not know what it does, but it was all carted out by me personally."

"I see. And the offer to Dutch?"

"Sixty. Half on acceptance, half on confirmation."

Harry stretched a little, saying, "Eh, why not. I'll take it to Dutch in the morning. Contact details in the envelope?"

"Indeed they are," Johnny replied, smiling broadly.

Harry took the envelope and tucked it into his pack, saying, "So, now that business is done, anything else?"

"Actually, just one question, if you don't mind," Johnny admitted. "Why are you in Roanapur on your own? Not that many people know about you," he continued, standing up as Harry did, "but your sudden appearance has a certain segment of the locals gossiping."

"Ah. Short version," Harry began, leading Johnny away from the stall, "I was in a shipwreck, my legal guardian died. Thanks to that, I can't catch a plane out. Politics limit my ability to use... _alternative_ methods of travel. So I've hired Dutch to get me to Hong Kong as soon as the military exercises are done."

Johnny stopped dead in his tracks at that. "Wait, seriously?" he asked incredulously.

Harry looked at him. "Well, yeah. Why?"

Palming his face, Johnny groaned out, "Oh, Dutch doesn't know, or he would've told you." Looking Harry in the eye, he explained, "Look, I know _for a fact_ that those exercises are going to keep going. Walk and talk with me."

Johnny led Harry over to yet another stall. Ordering a beer for himself and a Coke for Harry, he began explaining. "According to my people, those exercises are a lot more than just posturing. Rumor has it that there's a distinct possibility of a Second Korean War firing up. That's why America, Britain, and Japan all have forces out there. They're all operating out of Hong Kong and Okinawa because Korea is making unhappy noises right now. My best guess is that it'll be late September _at best_ before they wrap that shit up."

"Oh, hell," Harry murmured. "Thanks for the heads-up. I'll let Dutch know that too."

"Sure. Consider it a professional courtesy. Call me tomorrow evening on what Dutch has to say, okay?"

"Sure thing," Harry replied, shaking off the lethargy of so much good food. Johnny disappeared into the crowd as Harry crossed to a different street, catching a tuk-tuk back to his apartment.

The next morning, Harry grabbed some of the local crab salad (made with an entire crab, shell and all!) as well as some fruit from a local cart and made his way to the Lagoon offices. Stepping through the door, he saw Revy laying on a couch, a wet washcloth over her eyes and forehead, even as Benny was at the table tinkering with something.

"Hey guys," Harry called out. "Any idea where Dutch is?"

"He's on his way," Revy moaned out. "It's his turn to get breakfast."

"And Rock is on his way back from Mr. Chang's," Benny added. "What's up?"

"A job, I think." Revy sat up at that, and as the wash cloth dropped into her lap, Harry could see her sallow skin tone and bloodshot eyes. "Revy, are you okay?"

"Too much to drink last night," she admitted, slowly swinging her legs off the couch.

Harry came around the end of the couch, fishing through his bag. Pulling out a vial, he concentrated for a moment before handing it to her. "Hangover potion. It'll dull the hangover for a couple of hours while your body deals with the rest of it. You'll still need to drink a lot of water, though."

Revy snatched it up, slamming the entire vial in one go before shuddering and gagging. "That... was awful," she admitted. "Like steamed sand and used jock strap."

"A lot of potions are like that," Harry shrugged. "Feeling better?"

"Actually, yeah," Revy admitted. "Why the fuck aren't those sold everywhere?"

"Mostly because potions don't work on non-magicals," Benny broke in. "I'm not sure how Harry got one to work on you, though."

"I figured out that potions need an active source of magic to work," Harry said, sitting down as he took the vial back, "and I proved that a magical can kind of 'charge up' a potion immediately before dosing someone with it. Works just fine on non-magicals, but a magical _has to_ charge it beforehand."

"Huh. I did not know that," Benny commented. "An interesting solution."

"Oh yeah. And of course, _nobody_ is going to admit to it," Harry replied, leaning back into his chair. "That might threaten the Statute of Secrecy, no matter the good it would do in the world," he finished with a trace of bitterness in his voice.

"Hey, I just appreciate that it works," Revy commented, coming back from the kitchenette with a glass of water. "So, work. Who's the job from, and why are you dropping it off?"

"Green Tooth Johnny, and he's using me as a middle man."

"Interesting," Benny said, rubbing his chin. "Johnny can't work during the day due to... light sensitivity, and Dutch only talks with most clients during the day. Makes sense he'd have to go through someone. And I'm not exactly surprised that he connected you with us. You _have_ been in and out of the office quite a bit over the last few days."

"According to Johnny, I'm being associated with Revy on the street," Harry corrected. "I don't really know how that works."

Revy looked bewildered at that. "I have no clue," she admitted. "It's not like we hang out, or some shit. We just see each other here or at the dock office."

At that moment, the office door swung open, letting Dutch and Rock enter. Dutch was carrying a paper bag full of something, while Rock carried a briefcase. 

"Morning, Harry," Dutch began amiably. "It's a little early for you to be here."

"Job offer," Harry replied, holding up the legal envelope. "Last night I went out to check out the stalls that Rock and Revy were talking about, and a guy named Green Tooth Johnny came up to me at the Japanese place."

"Oh, don't tell me you like that Japanese stuff better than a genuine New York Slice!" Revy exclaimed.

Harry shrugged at the demand. "They're both so deliciously different that I can't really compare them. It would come down to my mood."

Dutch chuckled at Harry's response. "A good answer, Harry. Alright, so what do we know about Green Tooth Johnny?"

"I've heard he takes a lot of wet work," Rock began. "A lot of difficult assassination work, high security stuff."

"I've heard that. I also hear that he tends to rob his targets blind," Benny added in. "After all, if they're dead and no provisions have been added to the contract, why not steal what you can carry?"

"I heard that he ordered an elephant gun for the hunt on the Vampire Twins," Revy tossed in. "Eda told me he got one from the Ripoff Church."

"I see," Dutch quietly said. "What about his reliability?"

"He does a lot of work for foreign groups," Rock said, "and has a reputation for getting his work done quietly and efficiently. Harry, what's the offer?"

"Sixty grand, half up front. A shipping container can't reach port. The rest of it's in the envelope."

"Did you negotiate your fee?" Dutch asked, reaching for the envelope.

"I did. He said that ten percent is normal, right?" Four heads nodded in agreement. "Well, rather than the six grand for negotiating, he's willing to pay me in magical stuff. He says he's got a bunch of trunks full of stuff he's gotten from his targets. He's willing to pay me one of them in exchange."

"An interesting offer," Dutch rumbled out. "What if it's all crap?"

"Then I write it off as a learning experience and bad deal," Harry promptly replied. "And then I promise myself to never work for him again."

"True," Dutch commented, opening the envelope. Spreading the pages out on the table, all five began looking over the details.

"Route, ship registry, container location," Benny mused aloud. "Yeah, looks like all of the details are here. We even have pictures of the ship and container. Looks like it's at the top at the bow, starboard side. Easy to get it offloaded first."

"Hm. And the Manisalera Cartel can't get it?" Rock mumbled out. "Do they even still exist?" he asked, looking up at Revy.

Who shrugged in response. "Beats me. I ain't heard nothing since the fucking maid blasted them all to hell. Might be splinter groups in other cities. I wonder what's in the container, if they're the ones it can't get to..."

"Either way, it doesn't really matter," Dutch commented. "So long as it doesn't reach port, it doesn't matter what happens to it, according to the notes. And it'll make port on the nineteenth. Today's the fourteenth, so time is on our side. Ideas?"

Harry half-tuned them out as the four began tossing ideas back and forth. Revy was in favor of an old-fashioned at-sea hijacking, whereas Benny was in favor of a bit of stealth and a remotely operated explosive charge to dump the container into the ocean. Harry looked at the map of the shipping route, then the picture of the container, and _then_ the picture of the ship itself.

Holding up a finger, Harry asked, "Benny, how accurate is a portkey? Like, how much of a range of failure is there?"

Benny blinked at the seeming non-sequitur. "With the modern version, if the magic takes, then it's accurate to the envisioning. Of course, using the coordinate system to target the destination is perfectly accurate."

"So, no splinching, like in apparation?"

"Nope. Either it works or it doesn't."

"And anything can be a portkey... Hmm."

"What're you thinking, Harry?" Dutch asked.

"When I was on Yamatai, I turned a rock into a portkey and threw it at a guy to teleport him away. It worked, but I didn't know how well. Now I know."

"What, you're thinking of stealing the container with a teleporting rock?" Revy asked in confusion.

"I think so," Harry replied uncertainly. "What about the activation condition?"

Benny shrugged at the question. "It can be anything you want, really. Most use a wand tap, but that's for when they want to choose to go. Flesh contact, impact, whatever."

"How about a sudden stop?" Harry asked, eyeing Revy briefly.

"Oh, sure."

"So, if I were to cast it on, say, a _bullet_ , would it work as a portkey if it's fired?"

All four stared at Harry, the gears whirling in their minds. Revy was the first to break out of it with, "Well, shit, that'd make the job a fuckton easier. Let me break out the Gepard rifle, and we got a full kilometer of range."

Rock nodded at that. "In theory, enchanting a bullet like that would work. We'd have to test it, of course."

"We have the time," Dutch declared, standing up. "Harry, if it works, that's a fantastic idea. Let's get to it. Revy, you're with Harry on the testing. Benny, see what you can find out about the ship's manifest. Rock, you're with me on going through this paperwork. Harry, how are you supposed to get ahold of Green Tooth Johnny?"

"I'll call him tonight. I was supposed to do that whether or not you agreed."

"Get that done, then. Alright people, you have your jobs. Let's get to work."

"You mind if I come along on this, Dutch?" Harry asked curiously. "I kind of want to see if the portkey thing works."

"Sure thing," Dutch replied, smiling a little. "You may be a middleman, but if your idea works out you're on the team for this run."

"One other thing, Dutch," Harry inserted. "Johnny told me something to tell you as one pro to another. Apparently there is talk of a second Korean War? That's what the exercises are about. He doubted that Hong Kong would be clear to run to until at least late September."

"Oh, hell," Dutch mumbled. "Well, shit. That really puts a crimp in a lot of people's operations. And if... Harry, you may need to find someone else to get you out of Roanapur."

Harry just shrugged at that. "I've been here a week, and this is the best week ever, Dutch. If I'm a little late to school, I can just blame the minister. In fact, I'll do just that as soon as I can make time to send a letter. If I have to stay here for a couple of months, I think I'll be okay with that. Sun, sea air, and fresh fish? Oh no, why would I _ever_ want to stay?": he asked in a slightly mocking tone. "Why would I _ever_ want to not return to Scotland in the Fall?"

By noon, Harry had learned not only that his idea would work, but also how to hand reload heavy rifle ammunition. He also learned the joy (and intense shoulder pain) of firing a light anti-tank rifle. That afternoon he went back to Gurimurra for more apprenticeship, as well as a bit of dressing down from the elderly healer about his bedside manner. Harry had very little tolerance for someone 'acting out' in pain (as he saw it) when there were no broken bones or blood spurting. Furthermore, Harry had almost no patience for what he called 'the niceties'. Harry's background simply didn't allow for it. 

For example, a man came in with a broken leg. Harry did the examination, said, "Hold still, this will be uncomfortable." Harry then waved his wand, the broken leg reset and healed itself, and Harry was genuinely confused as the man lay on the floor of the clinic screaming about his leg.

He was handed a book on 'Proper Medical Behavior' and was told that there would be a practical exam later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to space this out a little. Good thing, too, because I actually skipped over several key sentences that would have made things a lot more confusing.   
> Posting two chapters today. More comments in the next posting.


	6. "What kind of joke bullshit is this?" - Revy

Later that evening, Harry wrote two letters after calling Johnny.  
The first:

 _Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_  
_Due to unavoidable circumstances, I am currently stuck in Thailand. The official story is that I was in a shipwreck with a family friend on my mother's side who was also my listed legal guardian, and was picked up by a container ship headed to Thailand._  
_Due to me no longer having a legal guardian, I am not legally permitted to cross international borders through standard commercial means (airplane, train, commercial ship), and thanks to the current Ambassador to Thailand (who fled the country for insulting the Thai King), I cannot get a portkey or use an international floo to leave the country._  
_I have contracted a local oceanic courier service to ferry (read: smuggle) me to Hong Kong, but sadly no independent services can get near there thanks to the military exercises around Korea. I am forced to wait until the exercises to wrap up before I can make it there. As I don't know when this will be, I ask for a bit of forgiveness if I am late to arrive to school._  
_I would also ask that my book list be forwarded to the the Magical British Embassy in Thailand so that I can at least order them and keep up on my studies._  
_Thank you for your time._  
_Sincerely,_  
Harry Potter

The Second:

_To: Albus Dumbledore_  
_Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards_

_Sir, my name is Harry Potter. Recently, I was a part of an expedition to find the Lost Kingdom of Yamatai. We found it, but the storms pulled us in and ran our ship aground. Most of the crew made landfall, but few of them survived the locals._  
_With considerable effort, we were able to discover that the original Sun Queen, Himiko, had not exactly died. I won't go into details in a letter. At any rate, I was able to take ahold of the controls for the ward network on Yamatai, and rework it to repel vessels rather than pull them in as our own ship was. Accordingly, I am now (very much unintentionally) officially the new Sun King of Yamatai._  
_As a matter of record, I left the storm network in place. If a storm system that had been in place for the last thousand years suddenly disappeared, this would make muggle scientists and explorers very curious, as well as having the effect of weather disruption on a global scale. Therefore I left the system in place to preserve the Statute of Secrecy as well as international ecologies._  
_Enclosed is the paperwork that Eshan Pembrow (Secretary, essentially the acting British Magical Embassador to Thailand) and I could find for the claiming of a region as a magical protectorate under ICW regulations. If more paperwork is required, please forward it to me through Magical Britain's Thailand embassy. Also, any pertinent questions can be sent there as well._  
_Hopefully this will be a relatively painless process, but I felt that you should be aware._  
_Sincerely,_  
_Harry Potter_  
_Sun King of Yamatai_

Harry mailed those two off early the next morning before heading off to the Lagoon Company's docks. Harry slid right in, taking over the fueling in order to free Benny up to make sure his communication rig was double checked, even as Revy was hauling a few crates of munitions into the hold. Dutch and Rock were going over the various intercept routes.

Within a few hours, the Lagoon took off, exiting the harbor as Harry sat in the cupola above the bridge, reveling in the simple joy of sea spray and wind. Sighing once the Lagoon settled into a cruising speed, he went below. Sitting on a crate, he began going through the paperwork that Slipshard had sent him from Universal Broom.

Interestingly, the notes had quite a bit of history attached to them. Apparently before the establishment of the Cleansweep Broom Company, most folks in Europe simply built their own. Uncomfortable, ragged things before Cleansweep standardized matters. There was even a note (and list of spells) from the Russian Koldovstoretz School, who were noted to play quidditch on brooms made from entire uprooted trees.

The full list of spells included in the various models that Universal Brooms had created was extensive but, as Harry could see thanks to the collated paperwork, rather haphazardly used. It was little wonder to Harry that the company failed, as the company used no anchors to attach the various charms to, rather just casting the spells directly on the broomsticks. This was in direct opposition to his Firebolt, as the goblin forged iron frame was covered in runes, and the twigs in it's tail were placed in a magically significant manner using an arithmantic equation in support with the runes. The spell decay was clearly in line with what the Weasely twins had told him about the Shooting Star model.

The bit of Tom Riddle was coming in handy at this point, as Harry already had pen and paper out, noting design failures, prototype expectations, and divergences. He also began designing a brand-new broom. It would likely never be anything near the performance of the Firebolt, but the idea churning in Harry's mind wouldn't let go.

"Harry," Dutch's voice came from up front. Harry rolled up his paperwork and stowed it.

There on the bridge were the four, surrounding a table with a map. "Alright," Dutch began, "thanks to Harry, we have a way to snatch the container without having to endanger ourselves. If that doesn't work, Benny will engage radio jammers while Revy and I board the ship to dump the container into the sea. Harry, have you selected a drop location for the container?"

Harry stepped up to the table looking it over. "Here," he said, pointing to a set of small islands. "Are any of these islands inhabited?"

"Doubtful," Benny said, noting their location. "These islands are almost completely underwater three or four times a year. Only stuff that grows on those islands are shore grass and mangrove trees."

"This one, then," Harry said, pointing to an island. "I'll cast the portkey spell on four rounds for the Gepard while I'm on that island to make the targeting easier. Then I'll set up camp there to wait on word from you guys. I figure I'll just wait for Benny to call my sat phone once the container vanishes, or me to call him if it appears."

"You realize that you'd be on the island all night," Rock noted. "By yourself."

"I'm okay with that," Harry smirked out. "I have supplies. Besides, with as out of the way this spot is, I really don't think anyone's going to bother me."

"If you think you'll be okay, I'll take you at your word," Dutch said, settling the matter.

An hour later, the Lagoon was speeding off, the magically enhanced Gepard in Revy's hand. As promised, four portkey bullets cast of soft lead were already loaded, and the rifle itself was enhanced with a silencing charm.

Sighing happily, Harry looked around. The island was small at perhaps a hundred meters across. A section of bare beach had been roped off to remind Harry not to be there when the container arrived.

Transfiguring a hook to a large mangrove tree, Harry slung up his pack. Fifteen minutes later, he had a small firepit built, fueled with some stored firewood, his camp chair and sun umbrella deployed as he transfigured himself a table out of sand. Fetching a bottle of carbonated water, he sat down and resumed his research.

Late that night, Harry was awoken from his slumber in a hammock by a loud thud. Rolling out, he cast a light spell, revealing a deep green, forty foot shipping container. Smiling, he grabbed his sat phone, dialing Benny.

"Yo!"

"Hey, it's Harry. The container just arrived."

Benny whistled at that. "That was fast. Revy hasn't even come down yet. I'll let them know, and we should be back in the morning."

"Good times. Later, Benny."

The next morning, Harry's ears perked up at the sound of the Lagoon's engines as it slid up to the shoreline. Rock and Revy deftly tied it off to a tree before all four members waded their way to shore. Shaking the water off of their legs, they strode up to where Harry was waiting. Meanwhile, Harry had already let his fire go out, and had packed everything away and let the transfigurations fade out.

"So, this is it. Anyone grab the bolt cutters?" Revy asked.

"No need," Harry replied, walking up to the double doors. There, at the bottom, was a heavy padlock keeping the doors closed. Pulling his sword, Harry swung once, letting the piercing charm cleave the lock in half. He then stepped back, admiring his handiwork before his face fell a little. "Um, does anyone know how to open one of these?"

Dutch chuckled at that before bending down and clearing the latch and then opening the double doors.

Revy peeked her head around the door to peer inside. "Huh. I wonder what's in the boxes."

"Only one way to find out," Benny replied. "Unfortunately, the manifest was never on a digital file, so odds are the actual manifest is still on the ship."

"Everyone stand back," Harry said. Once they'd cleared the doors, Harry began chanting, and the boxes began to hover out.

"Seriously Dutch," Revy muttered from the side, "can we keep him? The plan was fucking amazing, and now this? Please?!"

"Not now, Revy," Dutch rumbled out, smiling at Revy's begging.

Finally, the last of the cardboard boxes settled onto the sand, and Revy instantly snapped out a knife and began opening one. Only to stop, saying, "What the fuck is this, a shipment from the Johnson Smith catalog?" Peering inside, the other four saw a box full of whoopee cushions, joy buzzers, and blackface soap.

Frowning, Harry flicked his wand several times, forcing all of the boxes open at once. Sure enough, X-Ray glasses, fake vomit, and so on seemed to fill the various boxes. Harry began digging, finally picking one up to dump it out.

There, atop the pile, lay a large plastic bag with some sort of white powder inside. "Cocaine or heroin," Rock commented, kneeling down to pick up the bag. "Feels like a full kilogram."

Within minutes, the rest of the boxes were cleared out. The haul: seventeen kilograms of cocaine, four kilograms of heroin, a kilogram bag full of baggies of different pills, thirty hand grenades, seventeen pounds of C-4 and forty blasting caps.

"Okay, now _this_ is more what I was expecting," Revy laughed out as Harry used more magic to shovel all of the joke items back into the shipping container before closing it up. "So, what do we do with all this stuff?"

"We could leave the container here," Dutch answered. "That is, unless you have a need for a forty foot container full of joke crap. As for the rest, I think we can make use of the explosives. The cocaine and the pills... Pretty sure we can unload that somewhere."

Harry nodded at that before turning back to the container. Tapping his wand, he shrank down the shipping container before slipping it into his bag. "I know a pair of pranksters who would _love_ this stuff," Harry replied to the questioning looks. "Does cocaine have any medical uses?"

"It does," Dutch admitted as they all worked to place the haul into canvas bags. "Topical pain relief is one of them. There's some talk of using it in certain delicate surgeries, but nothing definitive in the journals."

"Huh. I wonder if Gurimurra would have a use for some of it," Harry said aloud as he transfigured a ramp from the beach to the deck of the Lagoon.

"Damn it, you mean you could've done that when we pulled up?" Revy demanded. "We didn't have to get our fucking feet wet?"

"Could've. But I figured you guys would have a ramp of your own," Harry admitted.

Several hours later, the Lagoon cruised back into harbor, even as Benny was leaving a message for Johnny that the job was done. Harry made for Gurimurra's clinic once Revy told him that she'd be talking to some people about the pills.

Gurimurra was absolutely tickled to have a kilogram each of nearly uncut cocaine and heroin for her practice. She promptly began teach Harry about some potions that used it as an ingredient, as well as how to use it nonmagically. As it so happened, refined heroin could be used in several potions involving magical nerve surgery, and refined cocaine was a storage time extender (by a factor of ten) for nearly every potion in existence.

On Friday, Dutch and Benny left in the Lagoon to meet with a contact in Cambodia over the rest of the cocaine and heroin. Revy stayed in Roanapur to wait for the testing results from the pills, while Rock stayed to finish the paperwork.

That afternoon, Harry finally had an appointment with a therapist.

"Mister Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Hazel Moore," the man said, leading Harry into a somewhat spartan office with a desk, a couple of comfortable chairs, and a few filing cabinets. The man himself was a bit portly, of medium height with a few streaks of white in his black hair.

"Glad to be here, sir," Harry said, sitting in one of the indicated chairs.

"Now, what I generally do is work with people with battle trauma," Hazel began. "Shellshock, combat fatigue, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I'm sort of okay with other branches of mental difficulties, but these are my specialties."

"Stands to reason," Harry replied, nodding slightly.

"So what we'll do here is develop a base of information that applies to you," Hazel continued. "This will allow us to determine if we're a good fit. Trust me," he continued at Harry's look of confusion, "mental health is a notoriously personal route to travel. If you're not comfortable with your therapist, you won't get very far in getting your issues resolved. With me so far?"

"I think so," Harry said, considering this.

"Excellent. Now, Dutch tells me that you had some problems on a recent trip. Should we start with that?"

"Alright. It all started when we were pulled aground by a magical storm..."

A full hour passed of Harry detailing the journey through Yamatai, with Hazel asking for clarifications at most points. Finally, Hazel asked, "It seems like you have a pretty good handle on your experience there. What's the biggest thing bothering you about all of that?"

Harry paused for a moment. "I think that the fact that I'm not terribly bothered about how many people I killed is what's bothering me the most. I mean, _shouldn't_ I be bothered about having killed so many guys? You know, regardless that they were trying to kill me."

"Hmm. That would be a fairly normal response," Hazel admitted. "But it's known that everyone processes experiences differently. How you would react would be vastly different than how, say, Revy would. You showed mercy when you could, and took lives when you couldn't really get around it.

"But," Hazel continued, "your reaction tells me that this isn't the first life-or-death situation that you've been in. Perhaps if you filled me in on the high points?"

"You're right," Harry admitted. "That starts in my first year at school. I was eleven, and..."

Thirty minutes later, Hazel had plenty of notes once Harry had finished covering the various base details of his adventures at Hogwarts. "Harry, I have to say that this is a rather extreme set of examples. And given my general lack of information on a lot of the background in that, I can't draw too many definitive conclusions apart from a lot of the staff at Hogwarts needing to be fired for incompetence and gross negligence. However, I _can_ say that you and I wouldn't be a good fit."

"How do you mean?"

Hazel sighed, scratching at his chin. "What you have isn't a combat fatigue or PTSD issue. Unless I'm way off base, I'm going to have to say that your issues begin with your childhood, and go forward from there. Given the little stresses in your voice combined with the pauses you make at certain points, you being in school and away from your relatives _almost_ makes up for the life-or-death struggles, in your eyes, anyways.

"So I'm going to have to recommend you to another therapist," Hazel admitted. "You require a somewhat more generalized therapist, someone whose mind can flit rapidly from one subject to another. To that end, I'd like to refer you to Sam Hawthorne."

"Alright," Harry slowly said, "And what does this Hawthorne do?"

"Mostly a mechanic and electrician, Hawthorne is a bit of a Renaissance Man. He has at least a base skill in nearly every discipline, and is know to have helped treat people with a wide array of exotic, complex psychological issue. Be warned that he won't be sitting down with you like this. He's a man who likes to multitask, and has the closest thing to a photographic memory that I've ever heard of. Odds are quite likely that he'll be hearing you out while rebuilding a transmission, and still be able to quote your entire conversation word for word. On the fly analysis is what he excels at, and not a lot of people can handle that level of mental jarring."

"I see. I can understand where you're coming from, "Harry admitted, "and I'd really like the reference."

That evening on his small apartment balcony, Harry called Dobby to get an update. Thankfully, Benny had hooked him, up with a cassette recorder that he could clip to his phone, as Dobby began babbling away about having finally gotten ahold of a magical reconstruction firm that would listen to him, as opposed to one that kept trying to 'improve' the Village Manor.

Also was the news that there were three properties in the Evans estate. Dobby had been to each of them, and all had been properly cared for by the Evans Trust. Dobby agreed to send photographs of all of them, as well as their interiors.

Dobby then went into how Sirius was doing. According to the Seaside Villa's house elves, the man's nightmares were easing up in frequency, and he was finally beginning to put on weight as well as get some color to his flesh. However, Azkaban had broken several habits, and the elves had to regularly remind Sirius to bathe.

Dobby finally ran out of things to babble at Harry about, so Harry filled Dobby in on what was happening with him. The bare bones version of Yamatai, and how he was stuck in Thailand until most likely late September.

The next day, Harry finally left his apartment at noon, having spent the morning in his bag's potion lab. Rock had left him a message that a steamer trunk had been delivered to the office, so he was heading that way.

Blinking, he saw a short, busty, tan blonde woman running past him down the street before ducking down an alley. A few seconds later, three men in Hawaiian shirts and sports blazers ran down the street, completely missing the alley. Shaking his head, Harry kept heading towards the office.

A few minutes later, Rock let him in, showing him to the honest-to-goodness, early twentieth century steamer trunk sitting upright in the corner.

Harry smiled at it. "Looks like Green Tooth Johnny came through. Now to see how well he actually paid me."

Rock sat down, a small smile on his face. "I'll admit that the job was one of the easiest heist jobs we've ever done. Having access to a magical without too many reservations is pretty nice."

"Hm? Oh, sure. Benny doesn't use his magic much does he?" Harry asked, examining the catches and locks on the trunk.

"No, he prefers to use his technical skills," Rock admitted. "But I really couldn't say why he uses so little magic. I know that I would."

"True," Harry agreed, working at one of the stuck latches, "but I grew up without magic, and you were denied it." Harry finally got the latch cleared, and begin prying at the second one. "So no wonder you would, and I do."

"A good point," Rock admitted.

Harry finally got the final latch cleared (and noted the traces of corrosion on the latches) before transfiguring a prybar out of an ashtray after vanishing the cigarette butts. Slamming the prybar into the base of the lock, Harry simply sheared off the entire assembly, allowing half of it to swing freely from the other.

"Lose patience?" Rock asked, amusement lacing his voice.

"Yup. There's corrosion on the latches, so I figured that the lock would be worse."

Harry dragged the trunk open, the hinges harshly grinding in the quiet of the office. Rock couldn't hold his curiosity, and ended up peeking over the back of the couch.

On the right hand side, where suits and dresses usually hung, were robes and other clothing made of visibly unusual materials. On the left were drawers labeled in what Rock could see was Burmese.

Frowning, Harry held up his hands, focusing his magic like Lara had coached him on. A small pulse of energy formed and flashed, encompassing the trunk in gray as each drawer limned an object within in shades of yellow, red, and blue.

"What was that?" Rock asked, suddenly breathless.

"Magical pulse," Harry explained, lowering his hands as the colors faded. "My friend Lara uses this to find Items of Interest, and professional curse breakers use something similar to find traps and such."

"Interesting. So what's in there?"

Harry pulled out a pack of sticky notes, used the pulse again, and started noting drawers with colors. "Yellow means interesting stuff, red means dangerous stuff, and blue means stable stuff."

"I don't understand," Rock admitted.

"Basically, Yellow stuff is of interest to me, red stuff is probably cursed or broken, and blue stuff is active but not dangerous."

Harry pulled out a drawer marked Yellow and peered inside even as Rock had gotten up and was peering over his shoulder. There, on a bed of black velvet, lay a choker necklace of dark purple silk, it's cameo latch carved into a woman on her knees. Pulling it out by the velvet, Harry noticed a small booklet on the bottom of the drawer. Harry rested the choker atop the trunk, and then pulled out the booklet.

"Hm. Says here that this is a 'Necklace of Submission'. Anyone who wears this will submit to whomever it's keyed to. A drop of blood on the back of the cameo will key it."

"That doesn't sound legal," Rock muttered, looking at the choker carefully.

"Probably isn't," Harry admitted, shrugging. "I'll admit that it's an interesting piece, and probably worth more than the six grand my percentage would have been. And it's only one piece out of about thirty."

A little more than an hour later, Harry had twenty-three 'safe' pieces laid out on a folding table, seven 'probably cursed' pieces on a separate table, and fourteen blank runekeep stones waiting to be engraved.

The phone rang, and Rock went to answer it as Harry began writing down on his latest list:  
14: Find out how to identify enchanted items without having to pay for the service

Rock came back, saying, "That was Revy. Apparently she was drinking with Eda, and some idiots tried shooting up the Ripoff Church. She wants me to meet her at the Yellow Flag after six."

"Need a hand?"

"Probably not," Rock replied, fishing out the car keys, "but I appreciate the offer. Odds are good that she and Eda are going to be drunk and need a ride."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said earlier, I'm glad I held off on posting. There was quite a few small but significant bits that I'd forgotten to add that would've completely confused matters.
> 
> Lagoon Company has been paid, Harry has been paid (I'll get more into the details of the trunk later), and drugs are being sold off.  
> And the Greenback Jane arc has officially begun! Which means that I can move forward with my metaplot! Yaaay!
> 
> Comments and constructive criticisms are always welcome, of course. Please, tell me what you liked, and what you didn't!
> 
> Edit: I did forget to mention that there very nearly WAS a Second Korean War in 1995. It was (according to people who were involved) very narrowly averted. So having advanced 'Military Exercises' in 1994 was easily made sense of.


	7. Harry Making New Friends

Church of Perpetual Violence  
Roanapur, Thailand  
12:19 P.M.

"Eh, I'm tired of arguing over what gun Jesus would haul around," Revy admitted towards the old argument. "I'm in too damn good of a mood to bitch about shit with you."

"Oh?" the gorgeous blonde nun asked, fanning herself with her feet kicked up on the side the altar, even as Revy slouched over the other side in her own chair. The altar itself held an ashtray, two empty bottles of rum, and a half-full bottle of gin. "I heard that the Lagoon was docked because of the exercises."

"You heard wrong, Eda," Revy replied, lifting up her head to sluice the sweat off of her brow with a thumb. "Had a job through Green Tooth Johnny. Some chucklefucks are trying to hook up the Manasilera cartel. We got hired to snatch the goods before it could make port."

"I hadn't heard that," Eda replied, sipping her tumbler of gin. "I _did_ hear that you guys apparently adopted a kid. So, you and Rock _finally_ getting serious?" she smirked.

Revy rolled her eyes at that. " _Fuck_ no. Kid's a client. As soon as the exercises are over, we're running him to Hong Kong."

"Uh-huh," Eda replied, the smirk still playing at her lips. "And so you guys are babysitting, huh? Hell of a thing for an elite courier service."

"Fuck, you just don't fucking quit, do you?" Revy snarled out weakly. "Fine. He's a shipwreck vic that lost his dad or some shit, and now he can't fly out. Can't hit the damn embassy because of the religious bullshit. Good thing he's loaded, or else he'd probably be a resident by now."

"Interesting," Eda admitted.

Revy drained her own tumbler, and as she refilled it, she swayed a little, saying, "He's been meeting a lot with Benny about some phone shit. Internet crap too. Shit, we were _right there in the office_ as he fucking bought a damn sat-phone company! And his damn banker..." Revy stopped, shaking her head a little. "Weird little fucker. Aggressive. But Harry trusts him, so good for him, I guess."

Eda raised an eyebrow in interest. "Some kid buys a telecom, and you just watched it?"

"Yeah, some place named after a metal. Irid-something. Hand held sat-phones, can you believe that shit? Benny was about pissing himself to be in on it. And Harry has him working out how to combine that little pocket computer he carts around with the phone. Whole lotta geek shit going down at the office."

"So, the kid got a name?"

Revy, being more than slightly drunk, missed the pointed nature of Eda's question. "Harry Potter. British, nice guy. Polite. Yolanda would love him."

"Well, Sister Yolanda _does_ appreciate polite people. 'Courtesy costs nothing', and all that."

"Shit, that reminds me. Can you guys get ahold of 8mm Nambu rounds?"

Eda looked at Revy in confusion as she processed the request. " Damn. That's a weird one. Have those even been made since WW2?"

"Fuck if I know. I _do_ know that Harry's got an old Type 100 in collector's condition. He's gonna need ammunition for it at some point."

Eda considered that for a second, before saying, "We _might_ be able to get him some brass. Probably nothing loaded; that stuff would be too dangerous to fire. But if he can get someone to load them for him, maybe.

"I'll ask Yolanda later. So, Japan. You two went. Did you and Rock get it on?"

Revy groaned at the question, slumping back over. "It was freezing fucking cold, Balalaika almost killed me, and I damn near got my legs sliced into deli meat. I never want to go back there again."

Eda waved away he objections. "I've heard all that before, shithead. Tell me something new!"

"If I knew your AC was busted," Revy admitted, "I'd have stayed at the damn office. Or gone to the Maploa market with Rock."

Suddenly, the was a loud banging on the front door of the church, with a feminine voice shouting, "Hello?! Hello?! Help! I'm being chased!"

"I think there's someone at the door for you," Revy mentioned unnecessarily, pointing to the object in question.  
\-----  
Harry grabbed himself some lunch on the way back to his apartment, considering the now shrunken down trunk in his pocket. There were an awful lot of enchanted items in there, and the only one that was identifiable was probably illegal in nearly every nation on Earth.

Sighing as he let himself into the air conditioned apartment (which was about the size of Dudley's room in total) and sat down on the bed.

"A question of curiosity, young master,' Salim's voice came wafting across his mind. 'Why not simply live out of your bag? It's sufficiently protected from nearly everything.'

"I never meant it to be a residence," Harry admitted aloud. "It was supposed to be an emergency house if all my properties were wrecks. Also an emergency bolt hole. I guess it never really sank in that I could actually live out of it."

'Then why over-design it like you did?' Salim asked.

Harry sighed, opening the container of fried rice. "You weren't there when we put it all together. Hedwig and I have _very_ different tastes in interior decoration. And she's my girl first; I had to make sure she liked it too."

'I just now saw the interchange between you and your owl. That was hilarious,' Salim admitted.

"Besides," Harry continued, pouring himself some tea, "I shouldn't get used to living out of my bag. If I start doing that, I might not want to go out too much, you know?"

'You _are_ a fairly closed-off person. However, given your experiences over the past couple of months I would sorely doubt that you would be content to merely hide away in your backpack.'

"Maybe," Harry reluctantly admitted. "At any rate, do you have any idea on how we might be able to test those enchanted items that Johnny paid me?"

'A few,' Salim admitted. 'Our line was at least somewhat knowledgeable on enchanting, even if we didn't specialize. Himiko's knowledge of enchanting far outstrips our own. You would have to voluntarily delve into those memories for the skills involved.'

"And I've been avoiding that," Harry groaned out.

'As well as other things. Such as the two of us attempting to dive deeply into what was left of Riddle.'

"Yeah, been ducking that too," Harry admitted, sipping at his tea.

'And then there are other, more material responsibilities. The man Morgan, for example. And the woman Jurgens. Both mentioned by Slipshard.'

"Okay, I _haven't_ been avoiding them," Harry said, clearing up his trash. "They are supposed to contact _me_. After all, they hadn't been properly hired yet, right?"

'Mm. A point, I suppose. There is one other concern, young master.'

Harry frowned at the odd tone in Salim's mental voice. "Oh?" he asked warily.

'You work very hard at your business endeavours', Salim began in a lecturing tone, 'but you have very little fun. You go out and experiment with different cuisines, which is commendable given your upbringing,' Salim added. 'But you have no hobbies, no interests outside of study and work. You go to the healer's for your education, to the Lagoon company to work with Benny, but little else.'

"You... might have a point there," Harry hesitantly admitted, noting that he was admitting a lot today.

'I realize that, between the broken broom and the non-magicals, you can't fly as you are normally wont to do,' Salim commented. 'But there seems to be little else for you to desire to fill your time with. And from what I've managed to glean, little at Hogwarts apart from chess and the exploding card game. The occasional periodical, perhaps, but little else.'

"I get it, Salim," Harry replied, a little heat in his voice. "I'm boring, I get it."

'Not at all, young master. You are merely young and have had little cause to branch out in entirely novel directions.'

"Okay, I think I see your point on that. Suggestions?"

Salim laughed at that. "You're in a hedonist's paradise! Nearly anything can be gotten for a price here, yes? So take up a hobby. Get drunk in a safe place. Pay a prostitute for a couple of hours of her time. Something, _anything_ that is more about you having a good time and less about business and learning.'

Harry blinked at that. He was aware that Salim had a fairly earthy, 'early period' perspective on life, and yet was quite appreciative of the modern method of dress (he especially seemed to have a thing for Revy as a 'flawless representation of the modern warrior woman. With an exceedingly fine ass'). He was also aware that Salim wasn't particularly happy that Harry didn't at least have a concubine, didn't have an heir (being the last of now three bloodlines and a line by conquest), and barely had any control over his life. At fourteen!

"I think I understand," Harry replied. "Get out, have some fun, live a bit, right?"

'In essence. However, I have a more pressing concern. I fear that you will 'burn yourself out' as the modern parlance goes. Either that, or by the time you get everything together and functioning, you won't know _how_ to have any fun.'

"Makes sense," Harry murmured. "Although I really don't know about the hooker thing. There are too many diseases out there."

'True. But I believe my point is well made. While you consider what you may do to distract yourself. I recommend that we delve into your resources. The memories of Himiko and Riddle are not to be discounted.'

"Right. Meditation and analysis," Harry sighed, throwing away his now empty container of food. "Might as well get into it. For now, let's focus on the enchanting bits. I think we might be able to use that knowledge to figure out some of the stuff that Johnny paid us." Harry curled up onto the bed, closed his eyes, and dove into his mindscape.  
\--------  
Several hours later, Harry's eyes snapped open. Blinking rapidly, he looked around, trying to identify where he was. Slowly, he realized that he was still in the apartment, lit only by streetlights peeking in from the balcony.

"That... took a lot out of me," Harry groaned as he stretched out the stiffness of his back.

'Too much time spent within the mind can be that way for the unaccustomed,' Salim chuckled. 'In time, you'll be able to dip in and out as you require. For now, however, take a few days to reacquaint your mind to the real world.'

"Right. Time is... almost midnight? Damn. I need to eat. What's local..."

'I remember overhearing Dutch saying that the bartender at the Yellow Flag claimed that there was a new American place opening a few blocks from the Lagoon dock. Apparently they mostly serve the dock workers,'

"Ooo. Burgers and chips. That I can get up for."

Fifteen minutes later saw Harry walking down the quiet street. He'd discovered that this residential section of Roanapur was a lot quieter at night than the business sections. Only a few bars here and there, mostly for the dock and office workers. No strip clubs, bordellos, or theaters. Idly, Harry wondered to himself if he should invest in a cinema house or two. And then he wondered if he'd just end up helping to open up porn movie theaters, much like his grandfather had.

Snapping out of his idle musing, he heard the sounds of massed gunfire coming from the shoreline. Looking around and seeing nobody, he cast the disillusionment charm on himself, drew his sword, and began moving fast through alleyways.

A few minutes (and not a small amount of panting), Harry's eye grew wide at seeing the Lagoon Company dock building ablaze. An explosion from the high octane fuel tore out the covered dock, and Harry could just make out four forms sliding down the collapsing roof.

Ignoring his burning legs, Harry rushed forward, getting to the building in time to see the Black Lagoon itself swing around, his eyes making out Revy, Rock, two blonde women, and two men jumping aboard. And just as swiftly, the boat swung around, heading back out to sea at full throttle.

Blinking at the speed at which everything had happened, Harry looked around. There were probably a dozen corpses scattered about the sides of the burning, collapsing building. And then he caught the sound of a groan.

Approaching slowly, he caught a very calm male voice saying, "...should wear a vest next time. They're pretty handy at times like this."

A heavily accented (Harry was thinking Chinese) female voice painfully responded with, "My weapon is my armor. Wearing bulky thing only get me killed. From look of thing, be no next time."

Harry approached to see a young man with silvery hair wearing a long coat reaching out to a young woman in a red dress, blood slowly pooling around her as the man said, "I'll take you to a doctor. Give me your hand."

Silently cringing to himself at the internal reminder of his promise as an apprentice healer, Harry covered his mouth slightly to redirect his voice. "If you agree not to attack, I can help."

Almost instantly, the man's hands were full of pistols, and the woman had managed to almost materialize three throwing knives. "Who there?" the woman demanded.

"The medic," Harry replied, having shifted his hand to redirect his voice to a new point.

The man's pistols lowered ass he sighed. "Yes, please. I have no objections. Stabilizing Miss Shenhua would be a priority."

Harry stepped out of sight before dropping the disillusionment. Stepping out into the firelight, he advanced as he sheathed his sword. His wand swept the area, casting detection and analysis spells. "Six bullets, two in torso and four in the legs," Harry muttered. "You are uninjured," he said to the man, "and there is another survivor over there," he continued, gesturing further down the narrow alley.

Kneeling next to the woman, he said, "Tell me what happened while I work."

"Ha. We get cheap offer from syndicate idiot," Shenhua stated, her eyes never leaving Harry's wand as it began vanishing bullets. "A grand each, find girl, bring her in alive. We bored, not have better thing in hand. We find out Lagoon and Ripoff have her back, price jump to thirty grand each. Retard thought he dealing with gangbangers in Miami until I tell him right."

"Okay," Harry replied, only half listening. "Drink this."

Shenhua slammed back the potion, shuddering slightly. Then she looked at the vial, eyes wide. "That blood grow potion. You healer? Awful young."

"Apprentice," Harry commented, slowly weaving his wand across her torso to guide the muscle knitting spell; when she fell, she hit a couple of broken off pieces of rebar. "No internal organ damage, but there is some bruising. Take a few days off to let that work itself out."

"I thank you. Anyways," Shenhua continued, slowly sitting up, "we think us lucky that Lagoon out. Means no big weapons, and Dutch scary as hell when angry. So we surround, break in, and Weaver set docks on fire. Fucking idiot."

"Weaver?"

"Claude 'The Torch' Weaver," the man stated, carrying a girl in his arms. "A religious man who's preferred weapon was a flamethrower. I am uncertain why such a man would be a good idea on a capture hunt, but I wasn't the one making the calls."

"I Shenhua," she began, "this Lotton, that Sawyer. He wizard, she cleaner."

"Harry Potter. Wizard and apprentice healer."

"So I see," Lotton stated, gently setting Sawyer down. "Interesting."

"I agree," Shenhua smirked out, nodding. "I grand-daughter of Wūshī, what you call wizard, but not magic by self. Lotton, you not use magic?"

"I believe that I am under a similar situation," he replied coolly. "My family is under a curse to prevent us from using our sorceries."

"What's wrong with Miss Sawyer?" Harry asked, having recast his diagnostic spells over the trembling girl tucked into a fetal position.

"She dropped her ultravoice," Lotton stated. "It could be anywhere in the debris. Without it, I fear that she is mentally retracting herself from the world."

Harry sighed, before pointing his wand and chanting, " _ **Accio Ultravoice**_." Instantly, a short rod flew from further down the lane to slap into Harry's palm. He looked it over before kneeling next to Sawyer, managing to tuck it into her tightly clenched fist. Sawyer's trembling stopped, tears still dripping from her face onto the pavement below her.

Harry stood up sharply, shaking his head at Salim's lecherous chuckling in the back of his head. He _had_ found Sawyer to be quite cute, and Salim's chuckling was unfair (or so Harry felt).

"So, are things going to get weird?" Harry asked. "I mean, you _did_ just attack my friends, and then I patched you up."

"No," Lotton stated crisply. "This was just a hunt. There will be few complications coming from this, except for those who hired us. They will be the targets of wrath, not we. It's the way of this city."

"Got it. Ah, shit," he continued, turning to look at the now smoldering rubble. "You two know about magic. Would you please not tell anyone I'm trying something experimental?" The two nodded.

Setting his feet, Harry called upon his mental map of the Lagoon Company's dock office. The bits he'd gotten from Tom Riddle and Himiko had really boosted his powers of recall as he pictured the tiles, the racks, desks, paperwork. Then his mind's eye moved to the covered dock. How the roof was supported, the locations of the fuel tanks, the tool boxes.

" _ **Reparo. Unburn**_ ," Harry chanted, pushing the mental image through the established spell and the new, made up spell, relying on his focus and intent to fill in the gap of a lack of proper incantation.

He tuned out the paired gasps behind him, focusing exclusively on his task as the smoldering stopped, the wood of the dock reforming as smoke streamed downwards. The concrete walls began reassembling themselves, and Harry could _feel_ the office reforming.

Finally, five minutes later, Harry dropped to his knees, panting as if he'd sprinted a full mile. His forearm burned from the exertion, and his wand was actually hot to the touch.

"Are you alright?" Lotton asked cautiously.

"Think so," Harry gasped out. "I don't think I ever used that much before. Ohh, I'll feel that tomorrow."

Shenhua grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back to lean against a clean section of wall. "You do good work," she softly said. "Not hear of such things since mother's tales of Imperial China Wūshī. They rumor be able to rebuild entire cities after invasions. You this young, do this much, you be powerful and skilled later."

"Thanks. Okay, I got my breath back," Harry said as he pulled out his phone. Dialing, it picked up on the eighth ring.

"Black Lagoon, Rock speaking."

"Rock, it's Harry. You guys okay?"

"Yeah, sorta," Rock admitted. "Eda dealt with the cowboy, and Revy got the pyro. We're taking the customer out now."

"Good to hear. Nobody's hurt?"

"Revy's got some knife wounds. Flesh wounds, nothing serious. We both have bruises from the fall, minor burns. The first aid kit is good for what we got."

"Thank goodness," Harry breathed out. "When I saw the docks on fire, I thought you guys were dead. What about Dutch and Benny?"

"Dutch is pissed about the office," Rock admitted. "Benny is... fine. Occupied with the customer, but fine."

"I... You know, I _don't_ want to know what 'occupied' means. Is Dutch available?"

"Sure. Here."

"Hey Harry," Dutch's calm voice came over the phone. "You didn't get caught up in any of that, did you?"

"Nope. Helped out some of the survivors. They said there wouldn't be any trouble, something about 'Roanapur's Way'?"

"Heh. Yeah, it's the customer that takes responsibility for a hunt, not the operator. This won't be a problem."

"Good to hear. One last thing, Dutch. I used magic to rebuild the dock office. I don't know how well everything is fixed up, but at least the structure is sound. Not sure about the paperwork and such."

"Well shit, Harry," Dutch's pleased voice came through. "Knowing you just keeps getting better every day. As soon as I can, I'll pull in a favor with Mister Chang to get it inspected and reconnected to utilities. I really appreciate your work."

"Never a problem, Dutch. Later."

Harry hung up, pocketing the phone. "So, what now for you three?"

Sawyer had managed to unclench. Sitting up cross-legged, she held her ultravoice to her throat. Her 'voice' buzzed out, " **We could go... to my place to... recover. I have space... for all of us**."

Shenhua and Sawyer looked at each other, then shrugged. "Sound good to me," Shenhua answered for the both of them. "What about you, healer? You want come with?"

"I suppose," Harry replied, slowly standing up. "I'll need to get something to eat first; I haven't eaten since noon."

" **One thing** ," Sawyer buzzed out. " **My legs are... bruised. I will... require assistance**."

"I can drive Miller's car," Lotton stated as he walked over to a corpse, looting the pockets.

"Would you mind if I carried you, miss?" Harry asked, a trace of nervousness in his voice. Sawyer lifted her arms, allowing Harry to pick her up bridal fashion.

As Harry followed Lotton to the car, only Shenhua, bringing up the rear, saw the little smirk on Sawyer's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This chapter *really didn't want to get written! But I got there, thankfully. Not a lot of action for Harry right now (that's in the planning stages), but rather more stage-setting.
> 
> Harry has met what my wife and I call 'Our Favorite Rom-Com Trio'! If anyone is looking for funny slice-of-life stories of Shenhua, Lotton, and Sawyer, check out Just Another Soul on ffnet. She writes some amazingly hilarious stuff on these three. In all honesty, I'm basing a lot of their personalities on how she wrote them. Sadly, because the novel 'Ballad of the Sinful Wizard' only has really terrible translations, I don't have any more information on the trio than the manga.
> 
> Sorry that my updating has gotten very sporadic. I've commented elsewhere about the schedules on our end. Basically, my schedule has increased since New Year's, and the new schedule where my wife works has gotten so bad that almost a third of the people where she works have quit outright. It's all sorts of messed up.
> 
> In other news, I have started a second story! The Wizard! stars Harry getting dropped into the Marvel Comics setting. I plan for it to be a great deal more freeform than this series, as I had a lot easier of a time writing the first arc of this series in freeform.
> 
> As always, constructive comments and criticism is ALWAYS welcome! Let me know what you did and didn't like!


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